All the roads lead to Rome
by SonataForMyOverdosedLover
Summary: Betrayal was always a woman dressed in poisonous velvet and Honor the man in shining armor. This is the time of renaissance, a race for power, a thirst for knowledge. This is Rome where nothing is what it seems. Second installment of Heroes and Thieves.
1. tales from the black market

And here we are, with the first chapter of the sequel story. I missed you guys, I really did. This is the introductory chapter and I sincerely hope you will find the writing captivating. Please, have a kind heart _young dames_ and _sirs _and leave a review at the end. I value them dearly.

Cheers!

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><p><strong>Tales from the black market – <em>Le Renard Noir<em> or how the winter night turned red**

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><p>The wind from outside was constantly hitting the weak wooden door against the adobe wall whilst the blizzard was pushing gushes of snow inside the poorly lighted room. The only light was coming from the candle on the primitive table.<p>

Faint voices were echoing through the room bursting from time to time into barbaric yells or dry, barked laughs.

He wished he was dead. For a moment he truly wished he was dead only if to free him of the pain with which the cold weather was torturing him into consciousness. The body on the floor tried to set itself into motion but it all ended in a convulsive shiver. He was content that at least he couldn't feel his legs. Like a crawling insect trying to defend itself he balled as much as he could, bringing his chest to his knees. He swore he wouldn't open his eyes but the darkness in his mind was eating him alive. Flinching in pain he ended up fighting to adjust his eyes to the darkness around him. His feet were in the snow, his small body much too close to the door. He watched his empty feet, covered in gashes that the snow would keep opened and smarting. His calves were tightly tied with a rope that was cutting right through the dirty skin.

He though**t** he would lose consciousness again but he went on by the thought of moving his face out of the pool of red snow. The cut across his cheek was deep and he was still bleeding. He was crying; there was no more shame and no empty words of honor and bravery. He would cry with no regrets; he wanted to be back at the house of his late parents; to bring wood for the fire, to take care of the sheep he hated so much, to run barefoot across the fields in front of his house. He was a kid and he had every right to cry; he wished he would have listened to his brother.

He pushed against the wet dirt floor. He needed to get away from the entrance.

A voice broke into his ears and he felt fresh tears forming in his eyes.

"Look at the little worm. He's still alive."

But he was desperate. With watery eyes he crawled like the worm they made him be to the corner of the room, safe from the wind and snow. He was trembling. With his shoulder and hands he brought his torso up against the wall and pulled his legs against his chest. There he let his tears soak the collar of his shirt. That ripped shirt, covered in mud and blood that was not only his.

Heavy metal boots chattered until they stopped in front of his weak body.

His thin neck crackled when he couldn't control a shiver waiting for a new blast of fists. But it never happened and his blurry eyes didn't leave the shoes afraid to motivate the guard if he were to look up.

"I don't understand why we don't kill the pip-squeak."

"All the rest are dead. Wait for the Captain to decide what to do. I don't want to lose my head for killing outside his command. Let him kill the kid if he wants."

The towering man made his way back to the table.

"It's not as if he's good for anything."

"Bah, stay put. He'll probably die before the man gets here."

The guard dropped his body on the tree stub the previous owners used as a chair.

"My codpiece is good for nothing in this cold. I can barely wait for that asshole to come and pay us so we can run the hell out of here. I am going to spend two days and two nights in the first brothel; with tasty wine, warm sheets and generous women."

"Shut your trap, Domenico. With your face you have to triple the price for a whore to sleep with you."

The other man grinned at his friend's laughter, showing a broken tooth of his stained denture. He grabbed an apple from the opened sack on the table. He rubbed it against the red shirt of his Vatican guard uniform and took a full-mouthed bite. The juice of the fruit oozed down his chin as he spat in his talk.

"My hands are freezing in these gloves. What the hell is he talking so long?"

"He's coming from the village in the valley. You should be thankful you are up here. From what I heard from the courier all the other missions failed. The Assassin's killed most of the men." He huffed a sarcastic laughter. "He mustn't be very happy; I bet those that lived were killed by his sword."

His friend grinned and chewed further on the apple.

"We got lucky."

"Luck had nothing to do with it." The man stretched his hand after the leather flask and gulped down some wine.

"We were tipped off about their location. I am telling you… without that information it would have been them drinking wine instead, with our corpses scattered on the way from the village to this house."

The other man got lost in his own trail of thought.

"I bet those bastards from the village are now cozily seated in front of a fire while the two of us are stuck in this stupid cowshed."

"At least we'll get paid big for torturing the hell out of the men."

"And to what end? Not a single word from them - those we had to kill and the rest that decided to kill themselves rather than giv**e** up information. I can't understand people who deliberately make things harder fo**r** themselves."

"Don't complain. Because of people like them and glutton nobles like Borgia**,** we fill our pockets."

The man took one last bite and threw the remains at the wall that the boy was curled up against.

"Between me and you… that Borgia kid is an annoying scum-bag. I hate nobilities. They think they can rule the world until someone smashes their head with a rock. I heard there was a recent rebellion in Romagna. The ideas this crazy fool has; he thinks he can rule over the entire north region."

"I couldn't care less about politics. With the raising force of the Assassins they keep us in business. I can make more money and keep my inane woman shut. Her voice is so annoying that I swear one day I'll just take the knife and cut her tongue."

"Talking about women, one of my friends at Vatican tells me that Cesare keeps Caterina Sforza locked at Sant'Angelo."

"Lucky bastard. He must have his way with her whenever he pleases."

"Crazy dog, I tell you. There are rumors at Rome that he's bedding his own sister. They even say that her toddler might be his."

The other man burst in laughter.

"I'd bed her too if I could. Hard life must he have at the top of the world."

The boy brought his hands over his ears. If only he couldn't hear and feel anything anymore. He closed his eyes but his mind was flooded with images of that night's massacre. Blocking the voices, from under his arm he watched the door. Outside, in snow were the corpses of the Assassins. Among them was the body of his cousin who had tried to protect him till the last moment. But he watched him die. He watched him take his own life. And then he felt so lost; he didn't belong to anyone or anywhere. He was hopeless. He shut his eyes closed so hard that it hurt. _Mommy? _Where was she now? He tried to remember her face but instead the image of a young assassin whose arm was being cut off made its way out of his memories. Outside were bodies left for wolves and crows to feed on. Not meters away were the bodies of people who had tried their best to hide him and fight the army off. But it all happened so fast. It was an ambush; they were never prepared. His face twisted in his cry and more tears came out because of the pain. He had been beaten and thrown against the wall; he had been tied with rough rope and pulled through the gravel and snow like a sack of potatoes. A sob was about to leave his throat but he bit his lip to blood afraid that they'll start kicking and punching him again.

"You know what I don't understand?"

The other guard nodded him to go on.

"How the fuck were we the only ones to find the Assassins' hideout?"

The man shrugged and passed him the flask.

"I guess that woman does make her money. Not to mention word goes that Borgia takes great care of her pouches."

His companion spitted on the floor.

"Shady character, man. But then again, who else but a woman to stab you in the back?" He looked pensively at the candle. "Venomous creatures." He paused and then looked at the other man intrigued. "Aren't you a little bit curious what is under that cape, though? She hasn't let down that hood the entire march here."

"Wasn't she the one behind the Monteriggioni attack as well?" The man brought his hands under the armpits and glanced at his companion with interest.

"Ah, that…. Yeah…I was in the first line then. We met her outside the citadel during the night. Heard she picked the place herself – well hidden in the valley. From there she and Cesare had some talk over the maps. I had to gather some men and follow her at the guard posts before dawn to take care of them so that we could have a surprise attack. Odd creature; she would point and the rest would do the kill. You should have seen eldest Auditore's face when she appeared in front of him. He looked as if he knew her but Cesare was pleased with the outcome so nobody really cared about the situation."

The other man tried to move in his seat, fighting the cold away.

"She gives me the creeps. You can't notice her until it is too late and your neck is sliced from behind."

"_Le Renard Noir._ I heard that's what they call her on the black market. Quite the legend. They say that if you want her services you shouldn't try to find her because she'll find you. Ugly words are whispered among thieves and mercenaries alike about her. She'd sell kings and queens if it would benefit her and she would stab in the back her only allies for a good price. Heard she stepped on cursed lands and profaned sacred places for treasures. Some even say she herself is cursed."

The other man let out a roared laughter.

"What rock hit you in the head, _idiota?_ You are starting to talk like a woman. Hear him, people; curses and legends. Leave witchcraft to those simple-minded beings. There is just one belief and one religion I live by: my fist and sword. Though, one thing must be true. Word is in Rome that the Master Assassin and the woman share a nasty history. Apparently she played him right into Borgia's hands; sold him to whatever price Caesare offered her for her betrayal. No wonder the man wants her dead. Wait until he hears of what happened to his small band of assassins tonight because of her interference."

The other man sneered with some sort of satisfaction.

"He brought it upon himself. Never trust a woman. If you give them too much freedom they'll lie and cheat and bring you to ruin." As he talked his body was becoming stiffer and his words were fiery. He tapped the table with his finger to judge over his opinion. "And that kind of woman shouldn't even exist. Freedom and power are not for a woman; it makes them go mad. The old priests are right: too much of that is turning them into tools of the devil and they should burn alive."

His friend was about to laugh at him when his voice froze in his throat.

The sound of galloping horses reached his ears and in a short while the other man reacted to them as well.

They both stared at each other while their senses were focused on the two approaching horses. When the animals slowed down near the cottage both of them jumped on their feet and turned to face the door.

The horsemen dismounted and made their way to the house.

From his corner the little boy caught a sight of a dark blue cloak storming inside, the door irremediably hit against the wall.

A tall man entered the room and his eagle eyes fell on the two guards.

"Nothing?"

His voice thundered rather than question.

"We're sorry, _Messere_.It was impossible. We tried to make them talk but even under torture they still refused. And some took their own life rather than talk."

"And you let them?" His voiced echoed through the cold room. "After all the efforts and you incompetents managed to get nothing out of them?"

The grave toneof the man was the only thing that was keeping the tired boy from falling unconscious. His heavy eyes traveled along the ground, guided by his instincts. In the white snow of the entrance his clouded mind fabricated the black shadow of death looming inside, darker than the night itself and more bitter than his own memories. The more his memories were returning so was his focus and the shadow slowly cleared into the cape that had laid the trap and like a crow had watched the bloodshed from afar.

_The cart wheels under which he was hiding; an assassin was kneeled in front of him and a sword swiped his head away. The lifeless body fell revealing a long black cloak on the white scenery. _

His body shook in terror and for a moment he was more alive than ever. It wasn't death as he had believed even at that time. It was a human, and that alone was more terrifying than tales of death in winter.

The sound that the boy made in his sudden movement attracted the attention of everyone in the room.

"What is this?"

The well-dressed man approached him.

"He's the lone survivor."

"Is he an Assassin?"

The man asked in disbelief. He looked way too young for that.

"No, _messere_. We tried to make him talk but he doesn't seem to know anything. We just found the boy in the company of the Assassins."

The man looked at the trembling boy. As if he didn't know if he was alive he kicked him with his boot.

"Then why is he still alive?"

The men looked at each other for an answer.

"We only received orders to kill the assassins. We didn't know what to do with him."

The man's face transfigured under rage and his hand went to his firearm.

"You imbeciles! The only successful mission we managed to have and you _**ruined **_it!**"** Both of them jumped backwards but instead of directing the gun towards them he pointed it down, at the head of the panicked child.

His gloved finger went to the trigger.

"_Wait_."

For that single moment everything, including his heartbeats froze and the boy thought that never in his life had he heard such a low and cold whisper. He couldn't even know if it had been real. But when his body started to shiver again, through his raised hands for protection he saw the shadow step inside, the dark cape sweeping the ground with soundless steps that he knew that were made only by the way in which the tips of the black leather boots were appearing from under the cloak.

The figure came closer.

"You'll let the boy go."

The man startled in infuriation.

"I am taking orders from no woman."

"It's not an order. It's the smartest thing you can do in the position you are now."

The faceless woman stepped in front of the boy. He pushed his body against the wall as much as he could. She was like plague.

The figure kneeled and he twisted with his knees pushed to his chest and his arms protecting his bare neck. He was shivering and staring down at his feet.

If it had been death the woman wouldn't have stopped the bullet. But death had been all around her and his old mother, if she had been alive, she would have recognized it and spit for misfortune.

"What is your name, boy?"

He jumped. The sound of her velvet voice was pushing his head up, in spite of his fears and pain.

His eyes stopped on the hem of the cloak, fastened around the neck and the cape falling heavily and hiding in darkness every humanly feature. The cape itself could have been covering void.

His eyes skipped down into the black crinkles.

"Davide."

It was his dying voice that burned his throat.

In the moment of silence he didn't know when she had started to speak again.

"_David_, the boy who defeated the giant… how old are you?"

This time his voice refused to come out. His lower lip started to tremble and his mind was reacting only to the cold and the pain.

"How old?"

"Fif- fifteen."

"And what would a fifteen year old boy do around assassins?"

The muscles of his back tightened and he brought his shoulders up to cover the sides of his face, never looking up.

Her head tilted and a black gloved arm extended from under the cape for something around his neck. He was petrified but then her fingers reached for the assassin's seal that had slipped out of the shirt. In a split of a second, before she could even get a good hold on it his arm hit hers away and his head snapped up, glaring with protection and rabbit fear right into the darkness homed under the hood.

Only then the boy realized his mistake. He was waiting for the pain to come.

But instead, everything that he received was silence.

"Not yours, isn't it?"

His heart skipped a beat. A weak feeling of hope made his lips tremble again. If it would keep the pain away he was ready to talk.

"My brother's."

But she said nothing. The boy started to panic again and even if the pain across his cheek was getting more powerful with each word he went on.

"I…. I wanted to go to Rome, to my brother…." He swallowed and that hope was slowly dying but he couldn't stand it anymore. His mind was a battle between the desire of staying alive and the wish to die and stop the pain. "…to become an Assassin."

The heavy silence was shattered by the monstrous choir of disdainful mocking laughter of the two guards.

"Listen to him…. An assassin!"

The captain let his men have their way, to laugh in-between their ironic jokes. The boy retreated to the wall once again and hid his face in his knees.

"Let's end this! What is your point, woman?"

She seemed not to bother with the man's words.

"Boy, look up."

He refused, bringing his legs as close to his body as he could.

"I said, look up." That velvet voice for once sounded as if it was covering iron.

He didn't know why he did it but he followed her instructions.

"You will go to Rome."

His eyes opened wide.

"And…become an assassin…if you still wish so." It was mockery. She knew that he will take the images of that night to his last breath. And her voice didn't hide it.

The men by the table started to laugh again.

"But you _will_ go to Rome and tell them _everything. _When he will ask you, you will tell _him _everything you've seen _and_ heard tonight." Her words were sinking so heavily beyond his ears that he unconsciously started to push his nails into the skin of his palms to keep reality grounded to him. "Do you understand me?" he couldn't avert his eyes from the darkness under the hood, the only place in which he could follow the voice. He couldn't speak but his head started to nod slowly, afraid to make any sudden move.

Her gloved hands rose to the hem of the hood and with the gentlest grip they started to remove it tardily. He held his breath as the black material was being lifted. He felt as if he was violating laws; that he would be punished and cursed for looking at what was behind a veil. The words he heard about this woman played in his mind but even if he would have been facing death itself he still couldn't avert his eyes.

The hood fell and in the dark room, when her eyes opened for a moment he thought he saw gold stones staring into his soul. He could hear his heart beating faster and faster as his mind worked to make the woman a human back again. He couldn't understand; for the darkness she was surrounding herself in, she was light. In the dark of the night her skin seemed paler than it probably was, and tresses of blanched ochre were framing features he did not expect to see. It reminded him of sculpted statues of archangels, images of anelegant and fragile beauty but fierce warrior. Those eyes were seeing right through him, burning him from the inside while he was trapped into the shimmery citrines.

"_Everything." _

Her voice was poison.

The spell was slowly lifting from his mind but they continued to read each other.

From the corner of his eyes he saw the blade she handled out of the cape but before he could act on it the knife was at his feet, cutting the rope so tightly fastened around them. He said nothing. He couldn't. He thought the moment she would start to use the knife on the rope the pain he would feel would be unbearable. Instead he felt it entirely, without the need to cry out. Her hands moved almost without a weight.

"Do you really believe he'll make it to Rome in the state he is in?"

"He'll try." She took the rope away and looked back at him. "Or he'll die on the road. There will be no loss for them. What good being an assassin if you are weak?"

Her face remained impartial, but the flash in her eyes was almost ridiculing at him.

The men laughed as the captain put back his firearm, still doubtful about the situation.

"Are you sure about this?"

"If the boy reaches Rome his words will spread among the assassins. Cesare will be pleased to hear that they are starting to fear him."

Only then she turned to the man and got up on her feet.

He looked at the boy and at his body covered in bruises and gashes.

"Bring him some boots and clothes from one of those corpses."

Both men froze but in less than a second they started to run towards the door. The man already looked angry and neither of them wanted to bring any of it on himself.

The boy looked up, from the woman to the man.

Soon the two guards stumbled back in, laughing in a malicious way and pulling the body of one of the assassins.

"Isn't this the boy's cousin? Here, have him back."

The laughter continued as the boy watched in horror how both men were ravaging the lifeless body, pulling off the clothes.

Tears filled his eyes. They threw the boots, hitting him and pulled out the hooded vest, discarding it next to him.

He couldn't move. His eyes were on the body of his cousin, with the wide gash in his chest, covered in curdled blood. He looked up at his face and he let out a whimper at the sight of his opened eyes, locked on him. He pushed himself further into the wall and stared at the dead eyes of his cousin. His mouth was trembling and his vision was blurred by tears.

"Dress."

The cold voice rang into his mind and hit onto the walls of his conscience.

His head darted at the woman and waited for the first row of tears to fall to see her clearly. The face he had once found angelic was now pinning him down, sending the entire coldness of the winter into his bones. She was a statue; tall**,** covered in black**,** unemotional. Her eyes instead were crushing him with a brutal force. That moment he felt anger; more powerful than the anger at the thought of her touching his brother's necklace. It was an anger of despair. Tears were now endlessly falling down his cheeks but he gripped the boots. He brought his first foot up and forced it inside the boot. His body was in terrible pain with each move and the boy bit his tongue until he felt the taste of blood. He wanted to stop, he wanted to cry and to ask for his death but the image of those burning eyes kept appearing into his mind and a renewed fire made him go on. They were golden as jewels but hard as iron and crushingly cruel. Each time his body would demand him to scream in pain her cold eyes would shut the tears away and force his hands. He gripped the white vest, now red in blood, and pulled it down his head.

The vest clung to him, cold and wet and the boots hurt when they were touching his injuries. He got on his feet, helping his weight on the wall and he bit his lip at the pain in his legs.

Without knowing what had taken over him, the first steps he took were towards the corps**e**. There, with all his power he kneeled and the boy took in his arms the discarded hidden blade that belonged to the man. He pushed himself up and stood there, in the middle of those persons.

"Get him out of here! I've had enough of this comedy." When the guards reacted a moment too late the man yelled.

"**Now!**"

Both gripped the boy by the collar and stared to push and drag him out in the same time.

"With these clothes on him, it's a miracle if he won't get killed by one of our men." They continued their ill humor.

He let them. The boy had no force to fight. Outside, in the frame of the door he looked past his shoulder. He was exhausted and the idea of passing out ran through his mind. But looking back, he hadn't expected to catch the woman's eyes still on him, following him with an iron grip.

That was the last image he saw before he was pushed into the snow. And instead of remaining there, waiting for the cold death to come, once the door was closed, he found his anger renewed and his arms pushing his body up. He stumbled and stumbled again in the snow but each time he would get up even if to fall once more. Soon his feet became numb to the pain and he was managing to take real steps. Each time pain would pull him down this feeling he never felt before was taking over him; and each time this rancorous anger would fade he would think back to those eyes so cold and distant that it made his will burn in this particular strange emotion.

The wind was blowing snow right at him, threatening to push him back and throw him to the ground.

From now on, only one thing kept him from remembering the blood and the death of that night, the pain and the wish to cry like a child. He swore to never forget that face. He couldn't even if he wanted to. And a strange desire to meet her again was growing inside him. To face her, this shadow; to take her down. That disdainful look on her face made him desire strength, power to fight. When lying down in that awful room he wanted nothing more than to return back to his quiet life, to have never wished to become an assassin, to tell his brother what a foolish thing he was for wanting to follow him, but now becoming an assassin was making more sense than ever. And he wouldn't give up; not without a fight; he wanted to prove, he wanted to earn and he was going to use that cape as a constant reminder of what his life was becoming.

He wouldn't forget. He couldn't.

She was something he would hate. She was something he would always look up to and respect. She was, after all what everyone knew: a legend. Nothing and everything was true about her. Covered in mist and shadows she might as well not exist at all. And he knew he was simply going to create another myth; another tale of a bloodshed night and he will further kill the truth. _Le Renard Noir_…..the black fox; as the name said, an extremely rare animal and a terrible bad omen. And he was bringing word of it to Rome where the downfall was about to begin.


	2. Seeking oblivion in the city of stench

**a.n.:** **(important):** I don't know how I always manage but by the time I write the author note at the beginning I end up forgetting half of the tings I had to say. Anyway, let's see how this one goes. For this specific chapter you might have to go back to chapter 18 from 'Heroes and Thieves' in order to remember one of the characters. But do so only while reading,( in case you do not remember the character) or otherwise half of the surprise will be spoiled. Far more important, and the main reason of this note, is a clarification over the rating. As you all know the story is rated M. So far, so was the first story but in comparison that was mild. This story will be rather dark and if in the first part I dodged delicate aspects of the culture and society in renaissance I won't be doing the same anymore. I wish to bring up even the nasty, obstinate, degenerate circumstances if the moment requires it. I do hope no one will be offended; in the end this sequel will be more aggressive, more bloody at times,and even sexuality and nudity will play a fair part. Also, another thing that I want to point: AC has portraied the Borgia family as the perfect image of the villains. I do not plan to go on the same simplistic speaking, they have omitted too many aspects and I do not intend to paint everything in white and black; reason why many other historical figures and events will appear in my story.

Before I leave you to it, on the profile page you will find a link with some quick (random) doodles for the story. And last but definitively not least I shall thank **XevilxbunnyX **yet again for beta reading this text. Because of her work chapters keep coming up. I always miss typos and grammar mistakes in my own works and the thought that someone is going through the reading process makes it 10 times easier for me to focus on the plot.

All in all, I hope you'll enjoy the new chapter!

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><p><strong><em>Seeking oblivion in the city of stench<em>**

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><p>The dust was dancing in the light of the lamps, the music filling the air of a city already intoxicated with both wine and good humor. It was the time of carnival in Venetia and the night couldn't conquer the life of the city of masks. Like termites the people were swarming in the warm colors of the streets, minstrels singing of stories long forgotten, and jesters playing their tricks under the exploding fireworks. It was light in the streets below and pure darkness on the roofs above.<p>

A man skipped from around a corner, red ribbons in his hand, and found himself surrounded by women with no masks, strong curls and short dresses. He laughed, prey to their charms, and with a glass of wine pushed in his hand he backed away, to a wall, enjoying the beautiful sound of their language and the alluring taste of their lips. A shadow of the night hid them for a split of a second and dust and small rocks fell in the man's hair and cup. He looked above as a courtesan kissed her way to his neck but saw nothing except the starry night over the roofs of Venice.

The guard yawned and closed his eyes for a split of a second, thankful for the momentarily darkness in his watch over the streets below his feet. The tiles made no sound as a white eidolon skipped behind him to be consumed further by the night. A single click was heard on the wood lattice of the balcony. The curtains swelled in a gust of wind and no sound was further heard. A rough, guttural voice was heard coming from the dormitory and soon the sound of steps followed. A tall, mid aged man made his way into the apartment's hall, wearing nothing at all. He went to the table and grabbed the wine carafe to pour some into one of the already used goblets. The table was stained with dry wine and the smell was reaching the balcony.

Something caught the man's attention and with a tired move he looked towards the curtains. The carafe fell from his hand and the sound of metal echoed into the dark room, wine splashed like blood on the white marble. The outline of a hooded man, standing in the frame of the double doors of the balcony swiped the sleep away from his brain. He waited but, like a statue the white shadow refused to move. He searched for his discarded sword with his eyes but before he had the time to make a move the figure cleared his voice.

"I wouldn't do that."

A click followed and the glimpse of a blade formed at his wrist. At that point the man knew he was facing death.

New sounds came from the bedroom and a soft, low voice was heard.

"Alfeo, is that you?"

But the man dared not to answer. His heart was racing and his mouth was dry.

The same voice came whispering from the darkness.

"Leave. I have no business with you."

For a moment he stood petrified, unsure of the situation. But the shadow took a step inside and it was all that the man needed to jump inside the dormitory, at the feet of the bed to collect his clothes.

The figure on the bed got up on the elbow and watched the desperate man.

With nervous hands, crawling inside the shirt, the man looked up and sneered.

"The nerve of you; being an assassin's whore!"

The white shadow appeared in front of the door. It was his cue to leave. With only his shirt on and some of his clothes in his hands he stumbled past the hooded man, falling after his sword and running barefoot towards the doors and out of the apartment.

Only after the door was shut did the person move again through the sheets of the bed glaring at the assassin.

The man held the gaze. He stepped inside the room and grabbed a white robe that was lying on the vanity table and threw it on the bed.

"Put this on."

If he read the hatred in the eyes, the assassin didn't let it show; he turned around and made his way to the table in the hall, his boot stepping in the pool of liquid. He took a seat on one of the chairs and waited.

Soft steps were heard from inside the room. Then they stopped. It was a heavy silence until the figure appeared in the hall, defeated.

"Did you really have to break into the apartment and scare my client?"

The assassin took a second before answering.

"I don't believe you would have agreed to see me if I had asked politely for a word with you."

Instead of answering the tall figure sighed.

"You could have at least killed him."

The sincerity and the tiredness in the voiced caught the assassin's attention.

He looked up and tried to picture in the darkness how much has changed since their last meeting, more than a decade ago. Brown curls were falling down the shoulders and despite the age, Ezio felt like looking at a beautiful marble statue. Tall, carefully built by artistic hands, even if just woken from sleep there was little doubt why the person was twisting minds of men and women alike. Words in Venice were making justice: Apollo would be jealous of this man.

"How old are you now?"

With an elegant gesture the young man shifted his weight on one leg and stared intrigued at the hood.

"28? You are not 30 yet, are you? How long do you plan on doing this?"

His lips turned thin and he turned, walking around the room.

"Get out of my apartment."

Ezio's voiced went lower.

"Your apartment? You mean the space your patron gives you to receive clients."

The man stopped, his back at the assassin.

"Sit, Vincenzo."

He made no move but the assassin pushed further.

"You know why I am here. The sooner you talk to me the sooner I'll be gone."

His brown tresses slipped down the shoulder as he turned his head to glance at the seated man. He fully turned and licked his lips.

"What makes you think I know?"

The assassin narrowed his eyes at his sudden confrontation.

"What makes you think…" he paused as he approached the table, stepping in front of him and looking down at him. "…that I know…" his hands suddenly went up. He grabbed him by the hood and keeping his head up by the hair beneath it, with the blade of a knife at his throat. "where she is?" he ended, snarling into his face.

The man looked right into his green eyes.

"You don't want to play this game."

The eyelids fell, transforming his expression into disgusted boredom. The tip of the blade was at his rigs.

Within a blink the grip started to lose and the young man sighed, stepping back.

"I don't think she would approve anyway."

"So you have seen her."

He put the knife on the wooden surface and took a seat at the other end of the table.

"I didn't say that."

He looked at the assassin from under his long lashes.

"And I don't know for sure what you are trying to find here, in Venice, but I can tell you from the start that you have been wasting your time."

Ezio let his eyes travel over his features. He had long lost everything that made him a child and the line of his jaw was so clear that it almost looked traced with a pencil. His lips were swollen as if he had a lover all the time to keep them that way and his gentle eyes and long hair did nothing to hide the manly allure his angular face possessed. Still, there was something cruel in his beauty; it had always been there. That alone had not changed.

"I haven't seen or heard of Shiva in a very long time."

The assassin tried to read his expression.

"Then how come you know why I am here?"

He laughed softly but slyly.

"What other reason? She must have done something for you to be that desperate to track down the few people that know her." He stopped and Ezio knew he was considering something. "It has something to do with the assault at Monteriggioni during last year, doesn't it?" By the sudden tension in the assassin's figure he knew he was right.

"What do you know about it?"

The man held his gaze a little longer before shaking it away.

"Nothing."

"Why don't I believe you?"

Once again he stole a side glance at the assassin.

"It's your choice. I am not asking you to believe me. _Madame _mentioned it. About the Duke of Valentinois erratic attack at the villa."

"Erratic?" the man almost growled. "There was nothing _erratic _about it."

At that he received a short sly laughter.

"It was not planned by any means. Even I know that. The captains in _Venetia_ talked about it for weeks. The Borgia cardinal had planned an attack over Forli in Romagna. Something must have happened in Romagna to push him further to Monteriggini." He arched a questioning eyebrow. "Shouldn't _you_ know of that?"

He was patronizing him and the assassin didn't like it.

"What do you know of Shiva's doing in it?"

Another annoyed sigh.

"Nothing."

"If you are of no good I can always go and ask my questions somewhere else."

Surprisingly the man averted his eyes and for the longest moment he lost himself in the dance of the blowing curtains.

"Don't go to _Madame. _She knows even less than I do." Again, he licked his lower lip. "And she wouldn't help you even if she could. She's old. She doesn't need more trouble."

Soon, the realization of the present moment came back to him and he turned.

"Same goes for me. I do not know where she is now. But even if I would I'd still tell you nothing."

It was the assassin's time to look away, into the dark of the room.

"You seem to trust her too much."

The man said nothing. And he waited but all that he received was the feeling of his eyes over him. He finally turned only to find the man staring right at him with a bizarre smile on his face. His eyes glimmered unnaturally.

"She's all I've got."

He clenched his jaw.

"Yet, you claim to know nothing of her. How is that possible?"

His words only managed to enlarge that exhausted smile, giving the impression that the man in front of him possessed knowledge he would never understand.

"You don't know her very well, do you?"

He watched the man swallow and put his hands on the table.

"Shiva never comes when she's caught with something. She stays as far as she can from those who know her until a job is done. No person around her means no face; no face means no trace; no trace means no weakness. "

He looked up at the man watching him from the other side of the table.

"I haven't seen Shiva in more than two years. You want to know for how long she's been working for Valentino? I'd say you could start from there. What she does?" He shook his head. "I don't know." He paused. "Shouldn't you ask around Rome?"

Ezio was surprised to find a knot in his throat when he first tried to speak. He coughed. "She's not there."

He played the fabric of the glove between his fingers.

"What do you know of her alliance with the Borgia?"

The young man wrinkled his nose.

"Whatever it is I wouldn't call it alliance. She keeps far from politics." There was a pause in his voice. "Maybe too far. If you want to know my opinion there is only one Borgia she would strike a deal with: and that would be the bastard son: Cesare." He narrowed his eyes, a thought of remembrance reflecting in them. "It would make sense. She's been to Valentinois even before he became duke….actually… last time she went to France…." he watched the assassin carefully "Cesare resigned from the position of cardinal, enraging his father but before the old man could do anything the French king entitled him over Valentinois. Though…I think there is more to that than title and politics. Shiva is always running from both."

"And since you are here I presume that she is still working for him. It can only mean that her part is not done yet." He stopped and analyzed the assassin. "Is this about that apple thing?" He caught his reaction. "Don't get paranoid. Shiva was in Venice in the same time with you. She told me about the apple. She trusts me." He held the assassin's glare. "She used to tell me a lot of things back then, when both of you were in Venice." He was taking strange pleasure in the tension he was creating. "Would you like to know her thoughts about you?" He stopped, maliciously adding his next words: "the immature boy who had his mind filled with thoughts of revenge?" But he went on. "You know, I told her she wasn't right about that. Your mind wasn't set on revenge; otherwise why would the Spaniard still be alive?"

Silence.

"Hmm… makes you think… maybe if you had been more mature back then she wouldn't be now playing in the Borgia's garden of wonders, throwing rocks at you."

Then the man lined his back against the chair and like a tragedy actor his eyes went wide in realization. "Wait... maybe that's it. Maybe Cesare's more of a man than you are." He grinned, not losing the hooded man out of sight. "What do you say? Are you a man now, Florentine? I bet that whatever it is that she did, she kicked you right into manhood."

"Watch your words, boy."

"Why should I? This is my house, and trust me when I tell you Assassin, that you are not welcomed." To his snarl he answered with the same attitude.

"Then why don't you try to get rid of me?"

"Fight you? It would only be a waste of energy. I rather talk from the comfort of this chair than with a blade against my neck."

"A wise thing."

He snarled, giving up the fight.

"You used to be more fun."

At that Ezio allowed him to have a better look at his face, a cold, unmeant smirk on his face. "What can I say? I'm not a boy anymore."

Either because of the words or the way he looked at him the man averted his eyes again and almost felt guilty.

The room was momentarily lightened by the colorful explosions of fireworks. Neither moved nor spoke.

It was too warm and the air was too humid for this time of the year. Venice was at carnival but never had this city looked more like an old, tired prostitute instead of the jeweled lady it used to be. His skin felt viscid and the hair at his nape was wet with sweat. He wished he could discard that thin robe and step naked into the balcony to feel the feeble draft of the night before the sensation of asphyxiation would take over him. He turned his eyes towards the seated assassin. He was silent. For a man who was chasing someone he looked tired and deep into thoughts himself.

Intrigued _Vincenzo_ narrowed his eyes, for the first time paying full attention to the person under the hood.

"Why are you really here?"

"The more I think of it, the more it feels unreasonable. I am sure that you have both the resources and the men to track her down if you truly want that. But why come here? Why now? You could have settled scores after Monteriggioni. But why wait more than a year?"

He thought that the man wasn't going to answer. Why would he, anyway?

"It's not me. I let her run away exactly because I know who she is. I thought she would be smart enough to take the chance and disappear completely after what she has done. But a month ago…." He stopped and his jaw clenched, his voice spitting the words in anger. "A month ago ten of my best men were slaughtered in _Valle d'Aosta. _I have witnesses that place her right in the middle of it. I can't afford more damage. _"_

He received no answer. Instead the other man was watching him even more doubtful.

"I get all that but… why come here? Rome is full of traitors who must have seen or heard something. It's right in front of you and yet you are running fro-…." In mid-sentence he stopped, his mind working fast. "..oh.."

His eyes narrowed.

"You are not here to ask me where she is, are you? You are not here to ask me where to find her. Now that I look at you, you don't even look terribly concerned with finding her. You are here for some other reason."

"I need to take her down."

The man leaned on the table and tilted his head, interested in the answer.

"You _need _to?" cautiously he let out his next words. "But you don't _want _to."

The tensed muscles in the assassin's jaw revealed the real anger that the man was holding.

The Venetian lost his ill intentions as another wave of guilt washed his mind. The man in front of him seemed in that moment miserable and regardless the hate he should feel for him, knowing what he was planning, still he could do nothing but pity him.

His throat was dry and he tried to swallow and walk his tongue around the mouth. Again, he retreated his form against the backrest of the chair.

He looked away.

"I get it now." Suddenly his words were the only sounds of the world around him. "You are not here for answers. You are here for excuses…. reasons… You thought that if you'd come here you could justify your actions." A soft, sad laughter escaped his lips as he looked back at the man in the shadows. "Look at you…. almost scared. You do not know what to do. She's the reason your men are dead, she's probably the one who was hired to take the apple from you too… and I hear the last head of the Auditore family died as well… and yet… you come here… reaching for reasons to trust her. After all she did you are still searching for a reason to trust her." suddenly his distant voice raised with fire. "What were you thinking? The stupid boy from Venice, selling his body; what would he do if I were to threaten that I was going to target her? Fall on his knees and beg me not to? Start filling my head with reasons why she deserves to be speared? That maybe she has some secret motives that would justify her betrayal?"

As suddenly as he started he stopped, biting on his words. "None of these would happen because, truthfully, it is not my decision to make. Why should I lie?She's a thief and she can go as low as she wants**.** Who are you to have expectations? You've been around her enough time to know how dangerous she can be. Just because she lets her hood down it doesn't erase her crimes." He licked his lips, his words heavily leaving his mouth. "And… you know, don't you?" he searched for his eyes. "You always knew. Sooner or later she'd end up doing something bad; she always pushed to see how far she can get." He felt uncomfortable. "Maybe you are right. Maybe she has gone too far this time. And I am not going to stop you; it's not my place."

"But…one thing won't change. No matter how right you are, and no matter what awful things she has done, I can understand why you would take her life but I won't hate you less. It's stupid to think I can do something against you and I couldn't help her even if I wanted. But I won't just make it easy for you. I won't let you step out of this apartment with the peace that you are looking for. It's your decision and I won't let you find your closure through me. I am her friend. I won't let her down; and I won't let you walk away with an approval to murder. Her blood will be on your hands entirely."

One last explosion in the sky, playing shadows over the still image of the table; the braying of lost, drunken people in the dying streets below, the bark of a dog and a yell of a vicious woman; the stench of the canal was reaching through the opened doors of the balcony. The night was tardily fading to dawn.

So many moments went in silence that Vincenzo closed his eyes, his mind slowly floating elsewhere. Finally, he heard the sound of the chair pushed against the marble. With eyes half opened he watched the form of the assassin getting up and slowly walking away.

"It's too early to ask you what you'll do once you meet her…"

He received no answer.

"I know it's too much to ask of you but… it's been so long since I had last seen her. How is she? How does she look now? "

The tall man reached the opened balcony but stopped. There he seemed togazeat the Venetian buildings, with tight passages and musky walls.

"Last time I saw her, she looked like a traitor."

He watched the shadow that the man was leaving on the marbled floor.

"Don't do that… don't leave me with that image over her." He laughed. "You don't need to venture your anger on me. And you are being cruel now."

The man got up and went after the assassin. His eyes lingered over the symbol attached at his wrist. Shortly after he sighed and stepped in the balcony, leaning against the rail and looking over his shoulder at the calm water beneath them.

"I was sincere back then, when we first met. I was ready to have this kind of life until she would grow tired and settle down. I always thought that one day she would stop; drop the knife and the hood and wear a long dress in the coquette courtyard of her own house somewhere in France." He smiled to himself. "When I was a child I used to fill her head with ideas of how we'll live together and of how she'll turn old and always have me there to take care of her, comb her hair, paint her lips and read to her when her eyes would fail her." Through his smiles a faded laughter escaped. "Ah, but then you Auditores kept interfering with my plans." He looked at his fingers and started to play with his hands. "Your brother hated my guts when he came to see her in Venetia. I put spice in his wine and kept kicking him in the shin whenever I had the occasion only to run for my life after." His smile disappeared for a slip of a second. "But then years later you appeared in _Venetia_. You were funnier than your brother and well, not with the same intentions. But after _Madame _had told me how confident she was in you I got a little scared... that you would take her away. You may find me sick, me and this attachment to a woman like her." There was a knot in his throat. "But you don't know how it feels to have someone take you by the hand and cover your eyes when all you can see are the worms feeding on your parents. And I always heard of her ugly deeds but they mean nothing to me in comparison with memories of her smiling, teaching me how to read, washing my feet whenever I would return from a barefoot run on muddy days. They mean nothing when I think back at those moments when she would come back to _Venetia_ all beaten and with her clothes torn. And even if her body was sore or she seemed unhappy she would let me join her in the bath, even long after I had grown up and was not a small boy anymore. At first I used to cry when she would leave. I was scared that I was left behind, even if Madame took care of me. But slowly, I was starting to learn and wait: she would always come back. Madame offered me all that I could ever want but instead, I started to work as a _cortigiano _; at first it was as a form of revolt - I thought it would bring her back faster but it didn't work that way. She taught me to keep distance so I went on. It was an easy life and why not take advantage of what nature has given me? But I still dream of that life from time to time: attending parties, with people whispering and gossiping about us; how an old unmarried woman would dare to make the scene with a younger man by her arm. We would be the perfect pair to fool everyone and laugh at their sick, empty morals." His smile was slowly disappearing, revealing that he was returning from his melancholic reverie.

"And maybe I am right to blame you. With her involved in this scheme and you here… it still feels like you have taken her away from me. From where I stand…" he stopped and dared to raise his now serious gaze at the assassin. "You're the one who dragged her in this mess."

He pushed himself on his feet. "Which is why she is your responsibility; and your call to get her out of it… a way or another."

After a short moment the hood moved in a heavy nod and the man stepped aside to let the Assassin prepare for the leaving. He crossed his arms and watched the white death ready to take its flight.

"One more thing. I know that what am I about to ask will be too much and unfair but it's the least you can do after this horrible night you made me go through."

The assassin debated a second but turned.

"Go on."

With his bare feet he approached the man.

"I want you to give something to Shiva from me…."

He watched the person in front of him tense.

"I know how absurd it must sound. But I… haven't seen her in such a long time… and… given the circumstances…" he couldn't say the words but both of them knew the end of it.

"What is it?"

The same dry tone.

The man stepped closer and after a moment of hesitation he brought his hands up, gripping the hem of the hood and pushing it down.

The assassin's hands went up to stop him but it was too late and the man was gazing at the face in front of him. Time had worked fast on the man. His strong jaw was now covered with a rough and undefined beard, the scar at the the corner of his full lips more prominent, with only his tired eyes to take your attention from it. They were the dark eyes of a man who had seen few things but learned so many. They spoke of strength and determination. But there was the warmth of doubt in the wrinkles between his eyebrows. There was little left of the boy who once visited Venetia and the man standing now in front of him was a leader. He was the hero Shiva had always hoped for - that's what went through Vincenzo's mind at the sight hidden until that moment under the heavy hood. He wondered if the man knew. But he decided to be cruel one more time and keep it to himself.

With a soft smile to steal the assassin's attention he leaned in and let their lips meet. It had been gentle and quick; caring, the way he'd often show to the woman how much he adored her.

Ezio was taken by surprise and he never had the chance to react.

Before stepping away, the young man looked into his eyes one more time, content and shyly smiling.

"Tell her it's going to be alright. That I am going to be alright whatever she does. Tell her… it's fine now. Tell her... Please."

One more step and he welcomed the man to his departure.

Ezio's confused eyes lingered a second more on the gracile figure before pushing the hood up and grabbing the handrail. He stepped up and pushed his body over the ivy fence, disappearing over the roof.

The man didn't move towards the door instantly. Instead he focused on the cold marble under his feet and stared into the dark waters. The city was almost quiet now, corners filled with garbage and remains of the night celebration. A colorful festoon, now wet, was floating in the water of the canal, one end still caught around a wooden pole. Slowly, it sank.

His long, slender fingers ran along the cold rail. Steps were heard on a nearby alley. It was almost dawn. He thought of reading something. Maybe he'll return to Petronius's Satyricon. He'd always loved Giton a little bit too much.


	3. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'

**a.n: **I am alive! Contrary to your belief, I am alive! And profoundly sorry for my absence! These past few months had been a nightmare that has drained me of any creative energy. But last week I was finally on a holiday and my batteries have recharged. Please accept my apologies for the long AWOL period but I am hoping to be back for good this time and on a roll with the upcoming chapters. So, to you, this is a small, intermediary chapter 'before the storm' as I like to call it.

Before leaving you to these few words I have written, I have to deliver a special thanks to _**Nama**_ for simply being awesome and putting up with my chaotic writing schedule.

And oh, how could I ever thank you people for still reviewing my story even if it wasn't updated for such a long time? You are positively admirable and I love you tremendously! Seriously, you guys! _Fliyingcrispi_, you are on the top of the list as always. Your reviews make my world go round again, _Klandgraf2007_ your review on _**H&T**_ was completely flattering – I hope the sequel won't disappoint you either; _Lorli _and_ Eci _to whom I had no address to send a replay– your reviews literally motivated me to get back to the story as soon as I could. And here it is! For you. I always take the time to answer individually to each of you who review the story because it's your feedback that matters and motivates me to work faster and better. Thank you, once again, even if this author note may actually be longer than the chapter itself, you darlings deserve the words and attention.

Done. No more chit-chat! Onwards with the chapter!

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><p><strong>Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned<strong>

* * *

><p>She let out a frustrated growl when her 'captor' jerked her ahead. Her body stumbled over a chair and she was pulled down to sit. The woman felt two heavy hands pinning her by the shoulder. She bit her lip in the darkness and thought of thousands of shameful ways to make him pay for his barbaric behavior.<p>

All too soon, the rough sack was lifted from her head, and if it hadn't been for the sudden light, she would have hissed in pain at the hair that was pulled with it.

She sighed and adjusted her eyesight to the new regained ability. Her hands were tied behind her back, but her indignation was bigger than the discomfort.

Her eyes fell on the man at the other end of the long table at which she was forced to take a seat.

"Is this really necessary?"

The man did not answer to her sarcasm. The woman rolled her round, hazel eyes.

"For such a great Brotherhood, hospitality is clearly not your strongest point." Slyly she scanned the tall walls of the richly decorated room considering how they still had time for good tastes. She looked back at the seated man, the leader of the Assassins.

"We don't deal with hospitality, especially when it involves a Templar."

Her face darkened and the woman glared, disgusted.

"I am not a Templar anymore."

"And you expect us to entrust in your words?"

He stood, making the woman feel fear for a second, thinking that she may have done the most stupid thing in her life by contacting the Assassins. This man, a legend even for her, was standing tall and demanding at the other side of the table. Then she noticed the trace of anxiety and concern on his face. His mind was somewhere else, and the woman immediately realized that she was in a predicament. Only then did the noises echoing through the halls make her pay a closer attention to her surroundings.

"My men informed me that you want to strike a deal with the assassins."

His rough voice broke her trail of thoughts and coerced her into full attention.

"Quite so." The woman nodded and crossed her legs in an elegant gesture meant to hide her insecurity.

Her confidence grew as she caught the assassin stealing a glance at her long, unveiled legs.

He went on, with questioning eyes.

"What would make a Templar betray the Order?"

The woman couldn't suppress the sudden disdain shown on her face and she almost sneered in his face.

"The Order is nothing but words. Call me a Templar no longer. They made use of my skills and then they thought they could toss me alongside the other bodies floating in the Tiber." She stopped and glared right at him. "I want the Order to suffer and I want that bastard to regret the day in which he decided that I am no longer of any use. I am done with Cesare. Done with the mad people who surround him."

Her hard feelings died when all he gave as a reaction was an ironic sound of pity.

"Hatred and revenge. Is that what you're offering?"

He nodded at the man standing by her side.

"You can solve your problems alone. We don't have time for petty games."

At first she wanted to jump from her chair, insulted, but someone like her knew better.

"I can give you Borgia's most precious men!"

She knew it was all a game for him. He was acting on it, playing the uninterested and she was to give up all the cards. And so she did. But not because she was losing but because she had had enough of men trying to outsmart women _like her_. Far too many times she had played their games, and she would always win no matter what they were lead to believe. But now – everything she represented was leaving a bad taste in her mouth and everything that the woman wanted was to make herself justice, in any possible way.

"Go on."

She lowered her face and watched him from under her eyelashes.

"Rocco Tiepolo, the two siblings - Cahin and Caha, cleaning the parties of Cesare's enemies, Baltasar de Silva, and _Il Lupo_, the Templar shadow of the Assassins."

For a moment the man examined her, pondering the heavy names the woman had spoken.

Knowing what was going through his mind she pushed further.

"And these are just few of the people I can deliver to you."

The assassin glanced at her one more time before starting to pace around the room.

The fuss outside was intensifying and that caught her attention again.

Everyone in the room tensed as a terrible sound of breaking glass and objects falling to the ground echoed into the hall.

The man cursed and abruptly turned to glare at her. His impatience was showing once more. As she was recalling, at first glance the man looked as if he was in a hurry; as if the meeting with her was keeping him from important matters. She cursed the bad timing.

He finally broke the tension with a decision right before the door behind him burst open.

"That is nothing. My men can take them out without dirtying their hands far more with the work of a Templar."

She would have protested in blind panic if not for the hands pinning her to the chair and the figure of a young assassin running to his master with a pigeon message clenched in his hand.

"Maestro, there are no news from the group in Lorraine! Mattia writes that he couldn't find any of our men!"

The woman skipped from the assassin to the smaller figure of a boy standing in the doorway. He was covered in sweat and in ragged clothes, with a wood sword in his hands. He had probably run from his training. What didn't pass unnoticed to her were the healing scars that the boy had all over his showing skin. With her trained eyes she caught the breath he held at the name brought into the conversation.

Ezio grabbed the letter but instead of reading it he frowned at the man.  
>When he realized his mistake he stepped back and looked at the woman. His eyes instantly grew wide.<p>

"Fiora Cavazza."

The words left his lips in a long whisper.

Even with her guardian keeping her in a lock she raised her chin, satisfied that her name was creating such reactions in the Brotherhood.

Much aware of his naïve mistake of bringing up private matters in front of an enemy, the boy, troubled, looked back in shame at his maestro.

"Speak now."

The man stared coldly at him.

"But- "

"I said speak. You have already acted on your loose tongue against better judgment."

The boy swallowed before fighting for his words.

"Mattia sent a message concerning their mission. The men we sent in Lorraine are nowhere to find. No trails, no activity, nothing. It's as if they vanished. He's worried that the main mission is a disaster and that something terrible is happening. Some of the men he's with are starting to talk about the mission being cursed ever since…." He suddenly stopped, unquiet about what he was about to say. Gauchely he tried to avoid giving voice to what was an active subject among the assassins. "…the massacre."

In her chair Fiora felt the body stiffen next to her. Out of her good instincts she saw the young boy in the doorway do the same, his hand clenching harder on the hilt of the sword.

Her eyes skipped back with interest at the Master Assassin. Her mind was working fast.

After a moment of silence, in which he almost seemed to fight down his temper he snatched the piece of paper from the man's hand and started to read for himself.

For moments everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath.

In a violent gesture he let the hand with the message down and stared at the ground. With searching eyes he lifted his head towards the messenger.

The assassin took a step to straighten his posture.

"What do you think Mattia will do?"

The boy nodded to add certainty to his words.

"He'll wait for your decision."

He stood quiet, considering the situation.

Another assassin, high in rank considering the attire, stormed into the hall.

"Maestro, with all due respect, but we must do something. We must go there and end this situation now."

The seated woman was following the game of words. With much interest she noticed that whenever they were talking to the man they seemed to avoid hitting a nerve, blindly circling around ideas.

"Go where? Do what? Send more men so we can lose track of them? Or do you wish to serve them to the Borgia's slaughterhouse again?"

The man, breathing heavily, looked conflicted from the younger assassin to his other brother by the woman's chair. He frowned.

"Look at your men! How much longer should we wait for you to make a healthy decision? How many other brothers do you think we will accept losing before your men will go for blood themselves? It's your personal matter Maestro, but if you won't do anything about it, we will!"

In a split of a second the man was in front of him ready to strike him into silence. Instead, with the face red in rage he kept his arms stoned to his sides but fire spit through his clenched teeth.

"Watch your tongue, assassin! Do not take my good will as an invitation to disrespect."

That alone silenced the culprit but anger was still gripping his figure.

The Auditore man turned to the other man as if the woman wasn't even in the room.

"Gather everyone inside. Send someone after Machiavelli." At pronouncing the name he looked suspiciously at the Templar. With a gesture of the head he continued to give instruction. "Get her out the same way you brought her here. This was a complete waste of time."

But the hall was in such a state of fret that the man couldn't do anything before words started to be yelled again.

"Do you really want to gather everyone and tell them this? Such news will only create panic and doubt."

"I am not letting my men in the dark. They have the right to know and make decisions for themselves."

Only then the feminine voice in the room was heard again.

"Lorraine was the second phase of the mission Cesare had in Valle d'Aosta. _The massacre_… is the victory the Borgias had there over the assassins." Everything was now making sense in her head.

Ezio's eyes deepened with something she couldn't quite place when he looked at her.

"Get her out. I need the room empty. I wish you luck with your revenge."

With those few ironic words he turned his back and stomped towards the door, past the two assassins.

Fiora jumped on her feet, now completely panicked, as her plan was falling apart.

The man grabbed her by the arms and tried to steady her as she was struggling. She needed to do something, desperate as she was, watching the retreating man.

"Wait! Wait!"

She bit her lip as she yelled after the assassin.

"I can give you what you want." She said in a single breath.

He stopped. For a second he watched the boy in the doorframe, and then he slowly turned to look at her over his shoulder.

"What I want? What do you know to make such assumptions?"

She looked frenetically at the faces in the room. There was no time for terms or conditions.

"I can give you the kind of information that will take you out of this mess. I can bring you to the people behind the Lorraine mission. "

He frowned. With those words she had manage to make the assassin face her again.

"What exactly are you trying to say?"

She straightened and a satisfactory but trembled smile appeared on her lips.

"What you heard. I know of Valle d'Aosta and Lorraine. And I even know where they are moving from there. I know what you want and I can give it to you."

As he stepped towards her confidence was again heard in her voice. When he spoke again the anxiety and edginess were back.

"Stop playing with words, woman."

Her hazel eyes narrowed as she purred the words.

"I can give you _Le Renard Noir."_

He remained like a stone, staring into her eyes.

She tried to jerk free of the grip but the captor didn't oblige so she continued. "The one you've kept asking about for such a long time. The one hiding behind the mission you are interested in, Cesare's own hidden blade as your men like to call her." Her grin got bigger as she leaned as close as she could towards him. "But words go that you know her better."

No matter how she despised her status, what she did, and how she lived, it was the only thing she knew how to do right. And in the end she would always be the shameless_ courtesan._

Her lips almost caressed the lobe of his ear as her whisper lingered languorously on his mind.

"_I – can – give – you – Shiva _."


	4. hunting season

**a.n.**: Hello my darlings. I am back. This ungrateful writes is back finally. I sincerely don't know what I have to do to upload faster. It's like a nightmare to know how to write and not to be able to put the right words down. It's awful. But, I have 2 points to bring up in this author note:

1. **IMPORTANT!**: I have recently written a one-shot (for now) called _Decoding. _It is still set in the Assassin's Creed universe but in modern times, concerning Subject 16. I have written this chapter and uploaded it on 8th of August because that was the day of his death and he is one of my favourite minor characters in the series. (and with such a tragic story he needs some love T_T). As I said, for now it's an oneshot and _for now_ is unrelated to the main story (Heroes and Thieves). I say _for now_ because I was supposed to start working on that short story only after _All the roads lead to Rome _was done so that it could make sense. But I simply had to write a chapter without giving spoilers. So there you have it. Please visit, read, enjoy, and leave _constructive _feedback.

2. For those lovely birds among you who are not interested in my following rant concerning FanFiction and the 'M rated' situation, do skip towards the chapter and enjoy the reading. However for those who want to stick with me on the subject, thank you for that and also feel free to share your opinion on the matter. I believe in the freedom of speech and the only one that can stop you from having a voice is only yourself and your silence. More on the subject - I should set my stories in 'T rate' to make sure FanFiction does not go 'child protection' all over my stories and delete them; which I shall not do as I am against this condition on FanFiction. Why not have M rated stories on this site? Maybe there are people two want to read that, maybe there are people who what to write that. It's FanFiction a site essentially for kids? No. However I DO agree with the idea of taking some sort of stand regarding badly written stories that offer granted violence or pure graphic pornography. Those are a real problem around here. But at the end of the problem no one puts a gun at your head and makes you read want you don't want. If they want to do something they should try an age verification system (not that it helps other sites), but not take them down. If they really want to do something for the site they should do a quality check (but no one is going to do that because of the subjectivism of such an act). And dear readers and writers, it's all up to you to read and write good fiction. Of course, bad fictions should be banned but if that could be possible '50 shades of gray' and 'twilight' wouldn't even be published now - maybe just under the humour cathegory. (I do not intent to insult those who like the books but respect my right to express my standards of what is good fiction and what is poor fiction).

In what concerns the status of my stories. (In this case I shall talk about the ones set in AC universe, the only ones active at this moment). I do believe they should be rated M even if they do not contain pornography and explicit violence. First of all I should start by specifying that M, for my standards translates to Mature _writing style _for Mature _readers_. I only write Mature because reality is **mature**. Because violence and sexuality are real life facts. If I wanted to write a story with happiness and rainbows I would have started to write stories for children. But, in this particular case, (_Heroes and Thieves, All the Roads lead to Rome, Oxala, Decoding) _I write about real life, I write adventure, I write tragedy. I can't attempt to write these genres and think that they can be anything but mature. You can't avoid violence, bizarre situations, sexuality, at times the grotesque of life if you want to grasp the reality. If I rate my stories M it does not mean that you'll find gore or pornography in it. It means that you have to have an open mind, a creative mind, a mature mind and approach to enjoy the reading. And for that I shall keep my stories rated M. On these principles I have nothing to fear about any possible terms&conditions that FanFiction might act upon. If, however, the admins on FanFiction will consider that my stories are a threat to the readers that navigate on this site, and will take down my stories it will automatically mean that this site is not compatible with the standards upon which I write and I shall close the account, letting all of you know, of course, of the site where I will be moving if I'll continue writing fanfictions.

On this note ( I hope a not very awkward one) I shall thank you all, to those who had the patience of reading my opinion (which I will post as well on my profile page), and I shall leave you to enjoy the chapter.

I hope the waiting for this new chapter will not prove to be in vain. Once again, thank you _**Nama**_**, **for being a great person and fighter most of all, and secondly for being a reliable betareader.

* * *

><p><strong>'For you should never want for a fox <strong>  
><strong>To chase all over the glen'<strong>

* * *

><p>The valley was reigned by a silence interrupted only by the whispers of the forest, attacked by the wind of the evening. Less than an hour since the sun had completely left the sky, and the warmth of the day was slowly rising from the arid ground, soon to leave the cold air of the night take its place.<p>

A deer, at the edge of the forest was still aimlessly making its way back, ears shaking at the faintest sound. She brought her head up at the distant sound of a cart heavily rolling in the distance, returning the exhausted peasants home to a well-deserved meal and a warm bed.

The animal was startled by the sudden flock of quails rising like darts from the meadow, soon followed by the clatter of hooves approaching madly. The deer made a step behind and pricked its ears and before the dust in the horizon line took the form of riders the animal jumped and disappeared in the deep forest.

The hooves were hitting the ground with immense power, dead wood snapping under them and dust rising from the ground where rain had not fallen in months.

The white capes were flowing up in the rhythm of the speeding horses. One by one, 5 riders descended past the forest, through the meadow, hidden by the tall lines of the valleys surrounding them.

Behind his hood Ezio was not paying any particular attention to the road. His mind was set on something else. In his head he kept rethinking their situation, the plan and the information they had received.

He was not having any doubt regarding Fiora's loyalty to the Assassins even if for some reason his sister was completely against it. But then again, Claudia was on her own until she would realize she needed to listen to him. And Mattia has confirmed the courtesan's words. Every detail of the story was as she had given them.

.

_Both of them were in front of the table covered in maps. Fiora drank from her glass of wine and took her time to assert her position. _

"_Here." She brought a finger down one of the maps. "This is the point through which Cesare's men entered France. Octavian de Valois helps him move about France with easiness." _

_The assassin measured the possibilities. _

"_They left Lorraine somewhere last week. I can tell you where they are going and the next step but if you were to ask me what they are after, I can't offer you that kind of information. Cesare has always been secretive on this particular mission." She looked at the assassin from the corner of her eyes. "Thankfully his general has a wide mouth in bed. They are to meet one of Cesare's most trusted men in France. I do not know his name. I simply know that he possesses a piece of information most vital for the mission."_

"_Where is the meeting going to take place?" _

"_Here." Her attention returned to the map. "Hidden in the valley of Strasburg." She stopped in order to eye his reactions. "They're crossing into the Empire. Because of that, they need to keep the French and the Vatican armies in a low profile."_

_The man frowned. "This makes no sense. Why would they arrange a meeting with a Frenchman outside their safe zone?"_

_Fiorra let a short grin appear on her face. "Because whatever Cesare is after, it's inside the Roman Empire. This man is pure information. Whatever is the purpose of this mission, apparently_ _it's worth enough to make sure the Assassins are not interfering." The woman stopped, knowing she had hit a thin nerve. It was no secret to anyone the losses in men the brotherhood has suffered trying to sabotage this mission._

_The assassin leaned over the maps, prisoner to his grim thoughts. _

_Fiorra arched her round eyebrow, less afflicted by the situation._

_With a seeding idea in her head she approached the man from behind, her hand tracing the line of his upper arm to the shoulder blade._

"_Have you managed to find out anything about my men in Lorraine?"_

_The woman stopped her actions but was not discouraged by his dry tone. Instead, her hurt pride she revenged through her plain words. _

"_They are dead; rotting at the bottom of a valley." For a second she thought she had gone a little too far when she felt his body tense under her hand. Fiorra sighed. "Il lupo."_

_At the name Ezio turned his head to the side, showing her that she had his attention. "It took me a lot of work to get this information. Apparently he's the eyes and ears of the mission." But something in her whispered voice gave him the impression the woman was not saying everything. "You sent your men to investigate the affairs of Borgia in Lorraine. He got their trails and prepared a trap. The Prowler, they call him; and truth being told he stands to his name. He is a cold-blooded hunter." She stopped for a moment, her face darkening. "Your men had fallen for it like mice in a deathtrap. The guards did their job from there." The woman sighed and stepped aside, shaking her head disapprovingly. "It was Valle d'Aosta all over again, really."_

_At that, the assassin turned and stood straight almost ferociously._

"_What do you mean Valle d'Aosta all over again?"_

_The woman bit her lip almost cursing for her slip of the tongue. But her quick mind found a way to turn things to her advantage._

"_Yes, Valle d'Aosta… he's also the one behind that incident. He spots the danger, sets the trap and the guards do the kill like simple marionettes." _

_The man swallowed and asked against his better judgment._

"_I thought someone else was behind that trap."_

_The woman grinned. _

"_Let me tell you something about the strategy Cesare uses on this mission." She approached the table and jumping on it she grabbed a cluster of grapes from the bronze bowl. Forcefully, she pulled a handful of berries and let them scatter over the map._

"_These are the worthless men Cesare uses for this mission; decoys; mostly mercenaries and lowlifes. He doesn't care a bit if they die or live. That's why he named Donato Mancini as captain over them." Her smile grew bigger. "I believe you have already met him," she said perfectly aware of how the man had escaped Ezio's blade at the ruins of Circo Massimo. "He's a ruthless man whose only purpose there is to keep the men in check and keep the image of a military mission." Ezio wanted to press her and ask for an explanation for her words but he waited patiently this time._

"_Now, the real mission is carried out only by two people." Elegantly she plucked a grape and placed it far behind the others on the surface of the map. "The watchdog…" and her hand quickly grabbed another fruit and putting it on the map she pushed it gently so that it would roll through the others and stop far ahead of them. "And the invisible hand."_

_She stopped, trying to read the man next to her._

"_If you want my advice, you should start to ignore the soldiers, but if you want to stop losing more men you should first," She picked up the grape in the back, and with almost hatred squished it in her hand. "Take care of the wolf. Probably the only person that wants his death more than the assassin is myself." Through her eyelashes she caught the assassin's eyes. "They work together you know? Those two… you should accept a word of wisdom and crush the prowler as fast as you can." Her hand went after the remaining distant fruit, turning it with her fingers in front of him. "Then," with a slow gesture she caressed his lips with the wet skin of the fruit "the game will be yours." But his jaw clenched as he glared at her. The woman showed a grin bathed in secrets. "Isn't this what you want?" And with that she felt him give into her words and she pushed the grape inside his mouth. She almost let out a cruel laughter. "Of course. How much you really must want it." _

_With that questioning tone she pushed herself on her feet and was on her way to the door._

"_You'd better start the chase, amore." She was almost to the door. "I heard it's a fantastic season for fox-hunting."_

_._

"Maestro, we should silence the horses. We're meeting Mattia at the other end of the forest."

The night was just at its beginning. They slowed down the pace and traveled in silence, following the line of the forest.

One of the men made a sign for the rest to stop.

"This should be the place."

Ezio looked around, the silence of the place hanging heavily over his shoulders. He was worried. After losing so many men he was afraid that something wrong might go with their plan. And losing Mattia and his group was not something he was willing to accept.

The assassin next to him let go of the reins and funneled his hands over the mouth. An acute sound, resembling an eagle left his lips and echoed through the valley.

Seconds passed, long seconds. But suddenly the forest answered back and the assassins shared a juvenile laughter, one of them hitting the one who had started the signal with his calloused hand over the back.

It wasn't long after that when white ghosts started to appear from the depths of the forest. Soon the ghosts transformed into the silhouettes of four new assassins, pulling with them three powerful horses.

One of the men in Ezio's formation dismounted whilst the slim figure of one of the archers brought a hand to the hood, taking it down and revealing a young smile, capturer between a thin dark moustache and a chin strip.

"Mattia!"

He took the man's embrace with the same respect and strength.

"Brothers!"

He stepped back and with his fist to his chest and a small bow he greeted Ezio.

"Maestro!"

"Mattia, we're relieved to find you and your men well."

The young assassin turned to his group and nodded. They were all young archers, including himself. The best of the Brotherhood.

Everyone was dismounting.

"What news do you have for us?"

The man stepped near his mentor.

"Everything is going according to plan. The French army is camped up the mountain road, near the great bridge. Vittorio is in the watch position over the passageway. He's waiting for our return."

"What about the Italians?"

"Cesare's men? They are on their way."

Ezio frowned.

"They are not here yet?"

"No. They are still miles away in the south."

"This is not right. What about the meeting?"

"Still not changed. We received notice from our brother in Lorraine that the informant has left towards the meeting place. He's accompanied by three hired mercenaries. They should be here in less than an hour."

The man sighed almost defeated.

"Is everything set?"

"Yes, we should go and take positions. One of our factions will take the northern slope and the other one the south. That way we'll block anyone who'll try to escape. Two archers on each side and with me, two on one side."

"Good; lead the way. I'll come with you. Three of you will go the other side." He continued, addressing to the men he had traveled with.

They pulled the horses through the forest and took the rocky way up the mountain, hidden by the darkness of the forest. They tied the horses in a glade not far from their destination. From now, their conversation was mostly through signs.

Ezio let Mattia lead them to a high place, righty behind the camp of the French army.

"Two men stay on position for attack. Mattia, you'll come with me and we'll try to get as close as we can. Your archers should be spread over the area."

Everyone nodded to their orders and both men started to make their way through the sharp rocks as silently and unnoticeable as they could. They had to stop. The tents were right at the base of the high slope they were hiding behind. With a great surveillance angle the young assassin rested his shoulder against the rocks.

"There. That's the captain's tent. All evening he's been pacing in and out of the tent. It's clear that he doesn't like the situation one bit. I heard they had to silence some peasants to keep their position unknown. Now he's at the fireplace with his soldiers." He nodded at the fire they had started hidden in a small grotto.

"Do we know the name of the man yet?"

The assassin smiled.

"André d'Espinay, cardinal of the French Kingdom and papal delegate of King Charles VIII of France."

Not very unlike him, Ezio let out a low whistle. "Impressive."

The boy laughed.

"Now, why would a cardinal travel such a long distance, incognito?"

"He's meeting Cesare's men. But to what end we still don't know."

A low, owl-like sound reached their ears from over the hill, through the mountain.

"It looks like we're about to find out very soon. That's the sign. Someone is coming."

Mattia sent the signal further, to the others.

Like that they waited in silence for the next thing to happen.

Not long after, the outline of four horsemen pierced the night, running up the mountain road. One of them was covered head to toe in a heavy cloak, his face hidden under a hood.

"That is our cardinal."

The assassins watched in deafening silence the scene below them.

The French captain got up to greet the men. The cloak dismounted, soon followed by the three giants that kept following his every step. They let the horses in the care of soldiers and the captain showed them towards his tent. The mercenaries remained outside whilst the captain and the cardinal entered the tent.

The two assassins behind their maestro were watching the same point with the eagerness of hunters.

"Do you think Maestro will try an approach?"

"No, not yet. Cesare's men must first come."

And as if his words have triggered the course of actions another signal reached them.

The man grinned. But if they were expecting to see an entire division of soldiers they were going to be surprised because instead, the moonlight revealed only the steel armor of two soldiers slowly trotting towards the French camp. One of the men seated across the fireplace got up and ran towards his captain's tent to inform him of the new arrived.

Ezio frowned.

"Where are the rest?"

But the answer he received only managed to upset him more.

"I don't know. There should have been at least a dozen of them."

"Damn it! This is not right! Where is Mancini? Wasn't he supposed to meet the cardinal?"

"He… we were assured that had been the plan."

But apparently the situation was not inconvenient just to the assassins. D'Espinay had stormed outside, his eyes falling on the two common soldiers that were making their way to the tent. The man threw down the hood and with desperate gestures he addressed to the two Italians and the French captain. The assassins were too far to hear the exchange of words but through the cardinal's raised voice they were distinguishing accusations of betrayal.

The young assassin nodded. "Even he is displeased by the absence of the officer."

They continued to watch as the man was being calmed down by the Frenchman. The cardinal was pacing around, clearly worried with thoughts and decisions he had to make.

"What should we do?"

"Wait." Was the only dry answer the assassin received.

Something was not right and Ezio was betting too hard on his instincts. He simply wished his instincts were the ones dictating his actions and not some sort of stubborn desire.

.

"_What about the other part of our deal?"_

"_The thief." She sighed, leaning on the banister of the terrace. She glanced behind the man, at his sister, glaring at her from the doorway leading insideRosa in Fiore."Cesare assigned her on this mission at the beginning of winter. She's the one leading the mission. The soldiers are there for backup. Whatever problem she faces on the road it's their job to take care of it."_

_Fiora let out a disdainful sneer. "That's what she does. She spits orders and the people have to do the dirty job for her."_

"_To whom is she reporting?"_

"_Just Cesare. He's the one that brought her in the game and she only answers to him." Her voice held amusement. "Not only that it upsets his generals but The Pope himself is unaware of the fact that she's working for Cesare. How could he? Ah that family… if their enemies won't get to them first they will end up killing each other. Cesare is suspecting that his father has secondary plans that might work in his disadvantage whilst Rodrigo is too afraid of his son. That is why he's doing everything in his power to keep Cesare close to him. He's concerned, with good reason, that his son has hired someone to look into his personal affairs. Well… I think we all know who that someone might be. So whilst the son is keeping the Black Fox a secret the Pope has a price on her head. That's all I have for now. She's a hard task. Cesare is the only one with whom she shares information and he has refused to talk about her each time I tried to pry into the matter. And the only person who knows more about her is his sister – Lucrezia. But for me she is a closed book. From what I figured out they are not exactly friends but they get along just fine._" _The woman let out another short ironic laughter. "Which is a miracle since I don't know of any other person with tits and vagina with whom that wench Cesare has as a sister can be nice to."_

"_What about Sforza?"_

_At that the woman in the doorway spoke for the first time._

"_There is still no news."_

_But the man never looked at her; instead he never let the courtesan out of his eyesight. Without even trying to hide her satisfaction she cleared her voice._

"_She is still kept in Forli. They can't convince her to sign the papers and one of Cesare's generals told me that they are planning to bring her to Rome very soon. Maybe you should wait until then." _

_The man asked for silence with no spoken words and both women kept quiet. Without anything to add he turned around, walking past his sister, not sparing her a single glance. As he was leaving the brothel he could still hear Claudia demanding the woman to get out._

.

Ezio felt that they were running out of time when the cardinal stopped and brought his hand inside the cloak. He pulled out a rolled paper. It was easy for him to understand that the assassins were growing inpatient as the two soldiers unrolled the paper to read it shortly. With a sharp nod, the paper was being folded back.

"These guys are going to leave. What are we waiting for?" The assassins were confused and edgy.

The archer closest to them let out a sigh of annoyance. He knew everyone was crossed. He thought he should check with Vittorio as promised and change guard. He got up, checked his crossbow but before he had the chance to step back from his hiding place something down the road caught his attention.

* * *

><p>The assassin on guard spit the grass blade he was chewing in between his lips. The archer that was supposed to replace him was late. He had no view at the camp except the road leading to it and terrible thoughts were webbing his mind. Should he get up and run there to check the situation? He brought the hands up to his mouth and let out a recognition sound but there was no answer. From his position, lying to the ground he jumped on his elbows ready to get up when he heard someone approaching. He looked behind alarmed only to see in the dark the outline of the familiar assassin hood. He huffed and turned his eyes back on the road.<p>

"What the hell man, you got me worried. What's happening up there?"

The figure approached in silence. He stopped.

The assassin looked over his shoulder one moment too late.

"Cat got your tongue?"

* * *

><p>"Not yet," he hissed before the question could escape Mattia's lips. Maybe Ezio had given that order but his heart was racing. He knew that right now they were one step closer to losing the perfect moment to attack, but still, with stubbornness he followed his instincts. This was not what he was expecting. Something was not right. This was not what he wanted.<p>

The two men turned their back to the cardinal. Mattia looked at Ezio with insistence.

He clenched his jaw in frustration and his mind was thinking only one thing. "_Not yet."_

In unison both dropped their hands to their weapons at the shocking sound of someone dropping next to them. Small rocks and dust slid down the abrupt slope when one of the archers stopped right between the two. Barely breathing and not giving anyone a chance to talk he pointed towards the fire.

"There!"

Taken by surprise both men tried to discover what the assassin was pointing towards. It was nothing; soldiers laughing between them, absorbing the light of the fire, the game of the flames cutting the night. Nothing else. Just darkness. But from darkness a shadow warped right past the men, slipping into darkness again, along the rocky lines of the slopesand right into the heart of the camp only to disappear again.

He felt his heart up in his throat. A mixture of determination and satisfaction was increasing his adrenalin. He had got what he wanted even if it meant sending them in a position of complete disadvantage. At this point everyone knew that their plan was not going to unreel well and that they were facing a completely unknown situation.

His assassins were waiting for orders, for explanations – anything that would set them into motion but right now his mind was clogged by something not very different than rage; revelation; anxiety. His eyes would not leave the shadows of the night. She was finally here. And the night itself could not keep her safe from his prying eyes. The red cape was leaving a river of steps the color of blood behind her. Curled to the ground, fast and slow, tall along the tents, at ease in the darkness and dodging the lights, she was simple wind to the soldiers on guard. Years have passed over both of them, and yet, here she was, hard to follow even by the gifted eye of an Assassin. To him she appeared more fast and skilled than ever. She was standing to her name – a fox approaching her prey.

The horses neighed at the undesired presence. The torch lightening them went off. Like a snake the cape went through them and was cautiously approaching the tent where the men were gathered.

The assassin narrowed his eyes.

"What is she doing?"

Mattia was holding his breath and so was the archer next to him. It was childish to think that in their mind a ghost they had only have heard rumors about was materializing before their eyes.

Ezio frowned. Truth being told all they could do was to follow the cape's action searching for answers.

"How did she escape Vittorio's watch?" But the archer's question received no answer.

"I don't understand anything anymore."

Mattia would have laughed at his friend's sincere confusion if the situation wasn't so tense. Instead, he looked at his mentor in hopes to receive an answer. But his face wasn't betraying any of the man's thoughts.

His eyes weren't leaving the thief. And then he knew. He had read her perfectly. She was about to leave the shadows and approach the men. They would have her cornered with the rest. He just needed a couple of seconds more. He felt the heartbeats of his heart echoing to his head and his arm was ready to give the signal for attack. Each second was a heartbeat until she would step out of the shadows.

"Assassins!"

In less than a moment the night unleashed hell. The assassins froze. The camp under their feet exploded in fret. Ezio clenched his teeth and he caught sight of the thief, stoned in shock for just one blink of the eye before she vanished into the darkness again.

"Damn it!"

The soldiers jumped to their weapons and panic took over. The cardinal almost jumped out of his skin and stumbled on the hem of his cloak, to the ground**. **His men took the blades out of the scabbard and covered a line next to the French captain.

The assassins watched in confused mortification the scene below.

"Stop right there, assassin!"

Everyone's attention was at the road, from where a white hood emerged into their eye sight, head down, holding the reins of his horse.

"I said stop!" yelled one of the guards, sword defensively in front of him. He swallowed troubled when no answer came from the rider, approaching them undisturbed. The armed soldiers encircled him, not giving the assassin a chance to escape.

Ezio gripped the sleeve of the assassin near him, stopping him from jumping in his brother's aid.

"That's Vittorio! What the hell is he doing?" His concerned voice trembled with confusion and worry.

"Stay put!" the man hissed at him. Ezio felt drops of sweat running down his temples,his thoughts becoming grimmer witch each second in which he was acting like a witness. His mind was a battlefield of priorities, from the bizarre assassin, to the duty of thinking for the best of his men and getting them safe out of the situation ahead of them, to the thief hidden still in the shadows of the camp, watching with the same caution the shocking scene.

The soldiers exchanged bothered looks, threatening to attack if the man wasn't to stop. The lack of reaction from the enemy was seeding doubt and insecurity in their minds. The horse came to a halt in the light of the fire. One of the men looked behind at his captain, and after a nod he raised his hand up to sign everyone to stay on position as he started to approach the assassin. With short crossed steps, blade ahead and almost fretting with confusion he got close to the horse. The man, his face completely hidden by the white hood, stood as a statue in front of the advancing guard.

With a knot in his throat Ezio raised the hand in the air for attack.

The soldier let his sword down cautiously and slowly brought his hand up to reach for the man. He pushed in the rider's side.

Ezio's hand cut the air in its way down as the body on the horse started to slip off, from the hood, the black haired head of the man rolling into the soldier's arms.

The man jumped like he was burnt, an unnatural yell leaving his lungs. The horse threw his mane into the air, a sharp neigh filling the air as the scared animal kicked back with his front legs up.

Arrows pierced the head of two of the mercenaries, their lifeless bodies falling to the ground not far from the cardinal.

White shadows appeared at the rocky edges of the mountains, like eagles launching down the slopes surrounding the camp.

Hell and confusion reigned over the valley as the sound of clashing swords awoke the night.

"Don't kill the cardinal, we need him alive."

The assassin barked to his men as his blade penetrated the torso of a charging soldier.

Both parts were fighting like blind men, none awoken yet from the shocking velocity of events. They were holding their weapons on pure survival instinct, killing whatever would approach them. And this chaos was not accidental; it had been cruelly planned, for someone to take advantage of it. That was why Ezio was frenetically searching the shadows with his eagle vision. Where was Shiva? He needed to know, he needed to take control over the situation. But it was hard when he had no idea what was the final stake.

His gun unloaded in someone's throat. He spun around to dodge another attack when he caught sight of the scared cardinal, overwhelmed by the bloodshed,stumbling backwards, trying to get away and hide. He watched powerlessly how from the darkness behind him, like a hunter in waiting, emerged the black cape. He widened his eyes in frustration at the man stepping right in the thief's attack range.

In a second long arms appeared from under the heavy cape and the blade of a knife found its way to the man's neck.

At the cold sensation of steel against his skin the cardinal froze and horrified, his eyes went wide.

Losing control over his body he started to shake, his own tongue betraying him.

"Help! Help me!"

The French soldiers turned at the scared man, a move that for some proved to be a fatal mistake, the assassins taking the opportunity to assure their victory.

Some of the soldiers managed to turn their swords towards the cardinal but before any of them could step the black hood loomed over the man's shoulder, the faceless voice hissing in the air.

"Stay back or you'll be collecting the blood from his throat!"

The cardinal's voice died as the men looked conflicted from one-another. The battle did not stop for one second, everyone becoming everyone's enemy.

For a moment the thief seemed to hold the situation under control.

Ezio's mind was frenetically counting out possible outcomes of their predicament. It was a battle for life and death between the assassins and the French army. The two Italian soldiers were trying to back away, to evade the attack; the twisted situation was sending both his men and the French with a similar purpose, of keeping the cardinal alive no matter what.

He should have given to his archers the permission to hit the thief but his body wouldn't obey his mind. The same way he couldn't do anything from stopping the French captain, out of Shiva's visual range, from grabbing his spear and prepare a fatal blow for the unaware thief. He gnashed his teeth. His hands transformed into shaky fists, his mind and heart torn apart by decisions he couldn't take. A sensation of numbness cut through his body.

The man took flight, the weapon up in the air. Ezio fought for control over his body. The attack grew momentum and the fingers almost unclenched from the weapon when the entire body fell prey to a short convulsion. The sound of an arrow cutting the air was the last thing they heard before the tip of the arrow penetrated the man's skull. The targetless spear flew over the thief's head and the body of the French captain hit the ground.

Mattia eyed in shock the typical arrow used by the assassins, now the weapon that had saved the cape's life. They looked in the direction from where the arrow had flown only to see the outline of an assassin's hood jumping down the rocks and disappear into the night.

Ezio held his breath and looked around in desperation at what could have turned in only seconds in a tragedy.

Another tide of confusion froze the blood running through the assassins' veins when as if stunned they started to turn their weapons against each other.

"No! No! Stay still!" he yelled the air out of his lungs. "Mattia! Tell your archers to hold their attacks! It's a trap!"

Lost and blinded by rage and helplessness the assassin cut the throat of a soldier in his offensive, and his eyes glared with renewed fire at the thief. His anger was ventured at her, whom, without moving a single step had conducted the entire attack into dementia.

The assassins caught up with the Italian soldiers and blocking their way, fought the life out of them. Ezio started to make his way with the rest of his men though the remaining soldiers. Even so, not one second he lost the menacing cape out of his eyesight. He narrowed his eyes and listened to the begging voice of the cardinal.

"Please, please let me go. I don't know who you are but you can't kill me. Cesare will have your head for it."

He cursed when he realized that he couldn't grasp Shiva's voice.

"No, no! I can't tell you that! Do you take me by a fool? If I give you the information now you'll have my throat! Get me out of here safe and I will tell everything you want to know!"

Ezio pushed one of the soldiers to the ground and his sword penetrated his breastplate. With mad force he pushed himself through the enemies' line, closer to his target.

Between the attacks of the guards he caught sight of the defeated man, nodding at something that the thief was whispering to him. He cursed. He was too far. He tried to read the cardinal's lips as he had suddenly lowered his voice but the black hood fell forward, blocking any prying eye.

He blocked an attack but a cold shiver ran down his spine. A dreadful feeling of defeatism formed in his mind. It was over. He had lost once again.

As if the thief had sensed his eyes on her, the hood turned in a sharp move to him. But he could see nothing.

The cardinal gaped for air when the pressure of the blade disappeared and he looked around at the outnumbered men of the French army.

The blade vanished in a second. She stepped back. Ezio wanted to sprint through the men but stopped when, instead of retreating, he caught sight of the cape launching ahead, past the cardinal into the group of soldiers. He stood his ground when the sound of an explosion reached his ears right before he could see the soldiers swallowed by dense smoke.

He heard the men yelling in their blind attacks. His own men stopped, not knowing what was happening in front of them.

A soldier jumped out of the smoke, his sword up to strike an assassin. But suddenly he stumbled over his own feet, and before he had the chance to fall to the ground the assassin took his head. He prepared to launch at the soldiers in the dissipating smoke but Ezio stretched his sword and blocked his attack.

The man looked confused from his maestro to the soldiers running out of the smoke.

Ezio narrowed his eyes when from the smoke the cape emerged and rolling to the ground she jumped on her feet, running straight at the bridge with no one to stop her. The cardinal was pushed to the ground by a soldier and he crawled out of the smoke.

"What on earth…?" one of the assassin brought his bow down and looked with confusion at the coughing men, unable to regain control over their bodies and falling to the ground as if they had no bones in their legs.

The cardinal tried to get up but he fell powerlessly in his attempts to reach the assassins. He was coughing uncontrollably and he started to shake at the sight of blood he had started to spit on the ground.

"Help! Please…"

One of the assassins ran to him.

"Stand back!"

His maestro's voice thundered. Even if he had spoken for his assassins his eyes were on the running thief. She had made it to the bridge.

"But he's dying! We need to make him speak."

"Don't touch him!" The assassin let out a frustrated growl and brought his left arm up.

"Stop!" His powerful yell was followed only by the sound of the loaded gun.

The cape froze, crouched at the wall of the bridge.

When the hood looked up the only sounds that could be heard were the coughs and the desperate cry for help coming from the man twisting and turning in the grass. One of the assassins looked helplessly at him. He frowned.

"We need to do something."

"Don't touch him unless you want to end up like him. The smoke was poisoned." He glared towards the thief and his hand was ready to pull the trigger at his elbow at any time.

Still, the cape rose slowly to her feet. As to prove his point she brought her hands up, pulling the hood off with one and grabbing the scarf she had worn over her mouth and nose for protection against the poison with the other.

In a sudden move she jumped backwards on the low wall of the bridge.

"I said stop!"

But he felt his own words die in his throat.

His hand gripped the metal of the wrist-gun with more power and he clenched his jaw.

He had to lift his trembling finger from the trigger and swallow his rage into control. He was afraid he was going to shoot.

The powerful blast coming from the hollow below her feet was blowing up the hems of the black cape and in the darkness of that night her hair had the color of the moon, dancing violently around her face. But her eyes were staring right at him, taunting him, daring him to give into his anger.

"Go on!" she yelled. Her voice held the same mockery he was reading in her cold eyes. "Shoot."

"I don't have a single reason not to!"

She talked no more. In silence she let her eyes roam over his featured a moment too long. The woman lowered her head and a short nod followed. With that she looked back into his eyes.

"I know."

And before his eyes, in an eternity of a single moment she spread her arms in the air and her body fell backwards over the bridge. The air got stuck in his throat and he froze. The first step felt as if he had roots in the ground. His arms fell by his sides and it seemed like time was too slow until he reached the edge of the bridge. Looking over the edge he felt the darkness staring back at him. But then, the hollow below them echoed to their ears the neigh of a horse and from under the bridge, through the rocky path emerged the dark cape, floating up in the rhythm of the running horse.

She was out of their reach.

Ezio glanced at his feet. He crouched in the same place where the thief had stopped. A hook made of steel was piercing the rocky road and from the peculiar three legged piece a long rope was running over the edge of the bridge.

Mattia was by his side, his eyes still following the rider disappear into the darkness.

He clenched his fingers around the hook and pulled forcefully to get it out of the ground. He pulled the rope up until the other end was in his hands. It had been cut by a knife.

Lost in thoughts he looked at the dying man, surrounded by his men. He took a knife and cut the rope from the hook. Turning it in his hand he frowned at the mechanism. In a sharp movement he whipped the air with the hook. Instantly, the spring at its junctions retracted transforming it into a liner hook.

The assassin near him watched him with concern, trying to see through his mentor's acts. Ezio felt the boy's eyes on him and cleared his voice.

"Does the mechanism look familiar to you?"

Even if younger than him, the boy was one of his best men; his mind was agile and his instincts were to be praised. That is why he liked to keep him close and informed.

Still, whatever was going through his mind he decided to keep for himself, granting Ezio with just a nod. A confirmation was all that he needed. He turned the hook between his fingers before attaching it to his belt.

"I'll have to have a talk with Leonardo when we return to Rome."

They made their way to the rest of the group.

One on the assassins was crouched next to the cardinal, careful not to touch him.

"It's useless. He has lost his mind." He shook his head in annoyance. "I couldn't make a thing out of his babbling."

In silence they watched the man giving his last breath, face to the ground, his hand twitching in the dirt.

One of the archers looked around at the bodies.

"What kind of poison did she use?"

The master assassin got down on his knees. He brought his gloved hand down, to turn the man in order to face him. But he was surprised to feel resistance coming from the body. It started to convulse more powerfully, distorted sounds coming from his throat, his hand digging more feverously.

"Shouldn't we end his pain? It's not like he can tell us anything anymore."

But the answer didn't come immediately.

"Wait."

Ezio watched the movement of the hand. "Wait," he repeated absentmindedly.

In a last instant, the head of the man turned and his eyes, red from the broken blood vessels searched for the assassin. Like that, he froze and life deserted the body.

The assassin turned the body, his attention fully caught by the marks in the soil. He walked his hand over the digs left by the nails. They were not made randomly. The man had not been gripping the earth in desperation. He cursed. Whatever he had wanted to draw was unfinished.

"Bring a torch."

As if expecting a command one of the assassins jumped to the nearest light and pulled the wooden torch out of position, running back to Ezio.

He lowered the fire enough to lighten the ground.

It was indeed a drawing. Symbols that they had to familiarize with first, to be able to understand.

"It's not finished."

He voiced his disappointment.

"It's all we need."

Ezio spared a look at the corpse. He let out sneer that showed much pity.

"Betrayal can be revenged only with the same coin."

He brought his gloved hand over the round eyes of the French man.

_"Requiescat in pace."_

Getting back on his feet he took off his glove and threw it over the body.

He looked up, at the tents covered in the silence of a slaughter.

"It's the Hirtschau Abbey. It's their coat of arms – the deer." He whisked his hands together. "A day and a half of riding from here."

"_Maestro…_" Two of his men, away to search the corpses returned with a familiar folded paper. "We found this on Cesare's men."

Ezio grabbed the roll and opened it.

"Hmm… it's the cardinal agreement to send forces under Cesare's command. Apparently he was ready to fortify Borgia's position in Frence."

One of the archers exchanged looks with Mattia.

"But that doesn't make any sense. Why kill such a powerful ally?"

Involuntary Ezio looked at the dead cardinal. For him things were not as contrasting, nor problematic. It was just the familiarity of the situation that was putting him off tracks.

"He had vital information for this particular mission. Leaving him alive meant leaving information into our hands."

"And lose a strategic advantage over a mission?"

That was what worried him as well. What was so important at the end of this mission to make Shiva cross the balance? His voice betrayed anger.

"Whatever she is after, it does not make strategic advantage her priority. _The thief_… she has just one objective and she doesn't care much for the consequences." He closed his eyes to chase the distant thoughts. "We can use that in our advantage. All we have to do is to put Cesare's own men in her way. It won't stop her but it will slow her down."

"That's irrational. It creates too much of a weakness."

"That's the risk you take in hiring her. The only thing she'll be concerned with is fulfilling her part of the deal."

He rolled the paper back.

"You did well. We'll take this with us."

He stretched his arm and gave back the document to his men. "Keep it safe."

One of the archers turned to look at their fallen brother. Securing his crossbow against the back-belt he approached the headless body. He glanced shortly after the head, but closed his eyes at the sight. The horse, scared, had hit it in its run. His face was unrecognizable.

"What happened to you, brother!"

He whispered and went on his knees to say a prayer.

Ezio eyed in silence the moment. He swallowed with an awful taste in his mouth.

"We can't take the body with us. We must continue to Hirtschau."

Everyone was silent, not daring to oppose.

Mattia looked at his archers, who were more than members of the brotherhood. They had grown together and were like brothers.

"Let us at least burn the body and give the honors."

The man didn't say a word, his eyes still on the lifeless body.

"Very well."

One of the assassins climbed up the rocky side of one of the slopes. He grabbed something out of the grass and let the gravity bring him back down.

He had Vittorio's bow in his hand.

"This was used to shoot the captain."

Ezio let out a growl and stepped towards the forest where the man that had fired the arrow had disappeared.  
>"He must have tricked Vittorio as he tricked us against each other." He looked at the firing place. From there it was a clear view to the surveillance point where the dead assassin had been assigned. "He's dressed like one of us. He acts like one of us. He must have used that against Vittorio; cut his throat before he had the chance to realize he was staring at the enemy. Then he must have sent the body down up the road to alert the thief of our trap." He cursed. "That's how we lost. He must have been behind us all this time."<p>

He clenched his jaw, anger renewed in his blood. He'd had enough of this game. No more holding behind. No more hide and seek.

He went past his men.

"Change of plans. I don't care what they are after. I need you to focus on a new mission."

Two of the men cut the fabric of a tent and covering their brother in it, they lifted the body.

His assassins were following him, holding their breath for new orders.

"Let's get back to the horses. We'll take care of the body and tomorrow morning we start for Hirstchau. Make all the preparations for an assassination mission."

The assassins were set into motion. Ezio stayed and watched them pass him by. He turned to follow, Mattia behind him.

"Ezio, who's our target?"

The man stole a glance at the boy following him, waiting to read a reaction.

"Shiva."

But the archer's face didn't register any change.

Ezio stepped up, fastening his steps towards the rest of his men.

The archer looked behind at the tents; the horses, left without owners, were the only sight that could mislead a stranger away from the blood that had been shed that night. Before being completely swallowed by the darkness of the forest the man stopped.

He allowed himself one last look at the bridge from where the thief had framed up her fall. He frowned, but his thoughts yet again, were not betrayed.


	5. Zugzwang

a.n.: no, darlings. your eyes do not deceive you. This story is being updated after... almost an entire year of absence. There is no proper excuse for it. I could come up with some but at this point is irrelevant. Most of you must have lost their interest by now. Most probably have completely erased this story from their memory. It's understandable. But for those who are still interested in it, or for those who are reading it for the first time, I hope you'll find it entertaining enough. I hope this chapter can at least attempt to make up for the lack of updates. I will know that my purpose as a writer has been fulfilled if by the end of this chapters you'll want to read further, if you'll want to throw rocks, apples, mobiles, cakes, glasses, whatever you have closer to you at me, compelling me to sit my ass the hell down and write the rest of this story! As usual, please visit, read, enjoy, and leave whichever kind of feedback you feel like.

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><p><strong>Zugzwang <strong>

|zugzwang = A situation in a chess game in which a player is forced to make an undesirable or disadvantageous move|**  
><strong>

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><p>He hit the iron grapple in air, blocking the claws on position. With one similar forceful hit the mechanism retracted. It was so cleverly done. Breathing out he turned and put the grapple back in the sack carried by his horse.<p>

The thought that Leonardo had been capable of working for both him and Shiva at the same time was distressful. He felt taken for a fool. Why did he not see it? The artist should have been the first person whom he should have inquired about her. But he hadn't thought for a second that he would be capable of providing her the means to bring troubles to the Brotherhood.

He heard someone approaching. Looking up, one of his assassins was making his way to him from the market street.

'Are we ready to go?'

The man nodded. 'I just received message from our brothers. Cesare's men are approaching the village faster than we predicted. I don't understand; we covered our tracks.'

'They are not following us directly. They must know we're after the thief and they are trying to reach us through her.'

'Should we ambush them? Make an escape?'

'There's no time for that. We should start making our way to the abbey before she finds whatever she's looking for there. If Shiva gets away this time we might not have a second chance to take her down.'

The assassin nodded shortly at his maestro.

'Get the boys together.'

He watched the man mount his horse and start ahead on the small alleys of the village. He did the same and galloped though the peasants to his brothers.

'Get on horses. We'll meet the rest outside the village. Get some food and throw the capes over your shoulders. We don't want to attract attention on our weapons once we get into the abbey.'

The assassins received the message without a word. They were all tired. Since they have buried their brother they hadn't closed eyes. Their Maestro had pushed them forward, as if pressed by an urgency they couldn't understand. Sadly his fears had proven to be justified. After the confrontation they have had with Cesare's allies, the enemy was moving faster than reasonable upon them . They needed to end their current mission before finding themselves in an unhappy situation of being fairly outnumbered.

At sunrise they had reached the village at the base of the mountain where the abbey was located. Some of them were to stay behind to keep an eye over the only road that was leading to the abbey while the rest entered the village for some food and coverage. The monks living there would have turned hostile at the sight of weapons.

That's how Mattia made his way through the village where the rest were waiting for them. Only two horses were brought in the village while the rest were to wait out of sight. He approached his horse and pulled an apple out of the sack he was carrying, bringing it to the horse's mouth. He petted his mane and looked around. They were ready to continue along the road, up the mountain.

'Where's maestro?'

One of the assassins, his arms crossed over the front part of the saddle, let out a yawn.

'Ahead with Ottavio.'

The young man frowned as he looked up the road. Ottavio was an excellent fighter and a loyal brother. But he was also a brute, not concerning himself too much with strategies. Maestro Ezio aside, Mattia was the head of the expedition. It was obvious that the master assassin wanted to share a piece of information with Ottavio and he wouldn't deny that this, along with the drastic turn of events that had taken place recently, worried him.

He tossed the sack to his brother and told him to share the food with the rest.

Like that they made their way up the mountains, not to lose track of the master assassin. The two had slowed down as a sign that it was allowed for the rest to join them. Regardless, no one exchanged a single word until the gates of the abbey were in sight. The entire monastery was surrounded by enormous walls built in rocks and only the steeple and the cross of the church could be seen above them. It was a day of trade so the enourmous wooden gates were opened. With a sign Ezio lead them to the stables outside the walls, to fasten the horses.

'Once you're in the yard don't make any visual contact with anyone. Look down and disappear from sight as soon as you find the opportunity. Mattia, Ottavio, you'll come with me to have a talk with the great abbot, the rest follow us in silence and you'll join us only at my sign.'

One of the archers looked in the distance. The air was colder up there and he was already missing the warmth of the valley. A pair of monks passed them by, welcoming them in the house of God and proceeding to feed the bull they held in front of the cart.

When the man was sure no one else could hear them he spoke to the rest, his eyes not leaving the gates.

'Do you think she's already here? Everything seems quiet.'

'That's your job to tell me. Once we're inside look for anything out of place, search for traces and report anything that might be of interest.'

'Well, if she's here I don't think she went through those gates. Women aren't allowed in the abbey.'

One of them answered quickly, pointing at the women who had probably came from the village, outside the gates, with goods to trade, negotiating with some of the monks.

'No, she wouldn't take the front gate. Though she could have done so easily. Some right clothes would have helped her hide her identity; carts: covered carts, carts of hey; many possibilities for her to get in unnoticed. But she needs to work undisturbed. She would be looking for a crack in the wall, a sewage, an easy way to climb in.

'There was no word of a stranger in the village either. We've been asking around. '

Ezio let out a sardonic laughter. 'If she's not here yet, which is highly improbable, I want two men up the walls. Keep an eye not only for her but after _Il Lupo_ as well. And as soon as Cesare's men are approaching I want word of it.'

The men made their way through the gates and as instructed they spread and mingled with the monks and the villagers in the yard. Confident, Ezio made his way with the two men down the paved alley. The abbey was self-sufficient. They were in luck that it was a day of trade and the gates were opened for both monks to go down to the village for provisions that could not be taken care of inside the abbey, and villagers to come and make a price for their merchandise. But it was no coincidence. This had made their access inside easier but Shiva was an opportunist as always; and a clever one too. On such days the monks were too busy with the immediate needs and the fret outside, giving her the chance to move about and cover her tracks more easily.

He eyed one of the monks tendering the candles outside the small wooden church in the middle of the inner garden. Around it, along the walls visible from outside were the rocky buildings with tall, round towers and right to the Est, the steeple piercing the sky with the interminable cross.

He approached the old man.

'Excuse me brother. Do you know where I can find abbot Friedrich at this hour?'

The man, old, with his hogged back and his wrinkled face, bones piercing through his skin, slowly turned to look at the assassins.

It might have looked strange to ask an old monk such a question, but Ezio knew better. The ring on the man's little finger gave his real position away. He was one of the oldest priests in the abbey and, by the black tips of his fingers a great scribe. His posture was of a simple man but his eyes spoke of a vulture's attention to his surroundings and Ezio knew he'll have the answers to most of the things happening in the abbey.

'Who's asking, my child?'

'We have a meeting. He's waiting for me. But I am afraid I might have arrived a bit too soon. The road up the mountains was easier than expected.'

The man spared him a doubting look and tried to pick under Ezio's brown hood, the ragged one he had gotten from the village.

'He just ended his morning prayer at this hour. The bells rang some minutes ago. I expect he should be making his way to Solitude, his desk in the library tower.

'Could you point me the way?'

'I can't, in fact. People outside the abbey are not allowed inside the building with the library.'

_Right. _Ezio was on edge and he had neither patience nor any time to lose on such trifles.

'He has told me that at my arrival someone will take me to him. My apologies if I sound hasty, but I've come a long way here, with word from Tuscany, and I have yet a long road ahead. I do not wish to waste unnecessary time and risk getting caught during the night in opened field.'

'Yes, yes; I've sensed it in your voice that you are not from these parts. Toscana indeed. I can understand both your fatigue and fears. Our roads are indeed filled with muggers.'

The man, with his vigilant sight, stole a glance at the two other men, standing silently by his sides.

'Gottlob, get here quick boy.'

In an instant, the young disciple, who was pulling the bad weed from the corners of the church jumped on his feet, wiped the mud and dirt from his hands against his robes and looked at the old man.

'Lead our brothers to the desk of abbot Friedrich but get in first and ask politely if he's willing to accept their presence. Have I made myself clear enough, boy?'

The boy glanced at the three tall men, a bit poor-spirited, but nonetheless, he nodded.

'If you may.'

And he went ahead.

The priest nodded at them to follow the boy. He tried to look once again under the cape. While the two assassins moved out of place his eyes fell on Ezio's left hand, on the discreet seal of his ring.

'I'm sorry, I haven't quite caught your name.' he repeated, a bit more alerted this time.

Halfway turned, Ezio caught him still staring at the ring.

'I guess at this point you need no name, Templar.' And as the words were whispered he nodded at the ring that the very own man was also wearing on his little finger.

But instead of a look of hate, the man stared at him with simple disagreement. 'I hope you know this place is free of alliances. The only belief that rules this house is the word of God and no sort of dispute should taint its walls with colour of vengeance or fight for power.'

'And yet, you wear the sign of a sworn alliance.'

'Ah, but isn't our order the hand of God itself?'

'I don't know. You tell me.'

And with that the assassin turned and quickened the pace to catch up with the rest.

Mattia spared him a look as they entered a cold hall.

'Are we ok?'

'We need to move fast.'

The other assassin simply followed, staring into the back of the boy's head. His hand was inside the cape, on the dagger in case anyone needed silenced. The story that his maestro had said was completely fake. They needed to get to the abbot fast enough to get some answers from him, even if by force. Ezio had informed him of the priest's position. He used to be a Templar but when his own order had tried to get rid of him he had left them. Ezio and him had a past and the latter had spared his life with the price of a favour when the time would come. Giving the situation, the man would soon have the chance to pay him back.

The boy led them up several wooden stairs until their legs started to feel the fatigue. The wood was old and it would creak with an echo through the entire tower. It was clear that the boy had chosen a 'back way' and not the main, round staircase which would have granted them visibility inside the library. On each level, a small corridor would have taken them inside the library, which, by now they had guessed that it was indeed spread throughout the entire North tower. Finally the boy stopped. He took them down one similar narrow corridor and in front of a small door.

'Please wa-'

But before he had the chance to finish his sentence Ottavio hit him with the hilt of the dagger in the head and his small body would have fallen to the ground if not for Mattia.

'I would have appreciated a word of warning before doing that.' He said while throwing Ottavio a glare.

The assassin chose to answer with a grin, taking pleasure in his brother's confusion. He enjoyed letting him know that there was a plan and that he was not part of it.

Pushing the men out of his way, Ezio opened the door and silently stepped inside.

From the doorframe his eyes fell upon the figure at an old, used desk. The abbot was facing the other way, towards the grand round staircase, his desk illuminated by the candlestick and the large chandelier, hanging over the endless pit of the tower.

'You've grown old since we've last spoke, abbot Friedrich.' his voice was carried in whispers, but even so Ezio feared that the echo in the library would bring his words too far.

In an instant the man turned around faster than his age would allow him. At the sight of the assassin he became pale as if death had come for him. And Ezio knew that, under other circumstances the priest would have been right in judging so.

'I wouldn't do that if I were you.' He continued as he nodded towards the man's hand, discreetly reaching the paper knife. "I'm not here to take your life. I would have done so a long time ago if I had wished. I'm here to give you the chance to make us even.'

The priest gnashed his teeth. 'Who says that after I've paid my debt you won't take my life?'

'You have my word.'

'_You have my word.' _ He spit like a snake. 'I've been part of that god-forsaken order for all my life. They gave their word as well that it's for a greater good and that I shall always be under the protection of the order. And the moment they weren't in need of my services anymore they wanted to off me. That's how much _your word_ matters to me.'

'The Assassins are nothing like your kind.'

'Yet you still insult me, calling me one of them still.'

'And now I am giving you the chance to prove me wrong.'

He watched the assassin in silence. Slowly, thoughtfully, his body relaxed, his mind taking a decision.

A low, long kept sigh left the old man's chest.

'Very well, let's hear it and be over with.'

'André d'Espinay.'

It took only a moment for the man's face to darken and for his attitude to change drastically.

'I want to know his connection to this place.'

'I know nothing of it.' But his answer came too soon.

'I suggest you don't play the fool with me. I have neither the patience nor the time for this.'

The sound of pen on paper was echoing to them from a scribe, unaware of their encounter, continuing his work not very far away from them.

'I cannot help you with that name.'

'Strange. He's the one that sent me to you.'

The man kept quiet.

'Listen to me' he hissed, 'you may not care that much if you live or die, but if you don't loosen your tongue your entire abbey with be swarming with mercenaries from Rome.'

'Are you threatening me?'

The creak stopped for a moment and the priest realized that he had been too loud.

'I'm _warning _you. Which is a great difference. These men are looking for us. They have made a good effort so far and the gates of your abbey won't keep them out. So the sooner we're out of here the bigger the chances are for the blood of your monks to be spared.'

He was petrified. But the first thing that heavily came out of his mouth was a question.

'_We? _You're not alone?'

'Men of the Brotherhood. Now I hope that this information has refreshed your memories.'

The man looked down, his hands trembling their way for support. He found some in the wooden desk.

'D'Espinay was a mistake. I had no knowledge of his visit until it was too late. He came here once searching information on a symbol. One of the brothers… he betrayed the secrets that this abbey is guarding. His soul was tainted by sins and for gold he broke the oath of silence.'

'What symbol?'

The abbot was talking so low that Ezio had to step closer.

On the other side of the door the two assassins were on their toes, in case anyone would come their way.

Ottavio was though, visibly more relaxed than his oath brother.

He chortled.

'Feeling on edge?'

He received no answer. The young man was keeping a straight face, looking at the wall in front of him.

'I can't blame you. After all it must be really frustrating to be the leader of the expedition and to be intentionally left out of the plan.'

Still no answer came out.

He waited in silence, almost ready to give up the fight. Still, he watched the guy from the corner of his eye. It's not that he didn't like Mattia, but he was not fun at all: he was too rational and calculated for his own liking. He was his brother but that didn't mean that he wasn't allowed to tease him. But this time, more out of curiosity than anything else he started to talk again. Not without his notorious crooked insinuations.

'Words in the brotherhood go that you know how this woman looks. That you know her personally. Is it so?'

When his question was left unanswered as well he growled and decided to bite.

'Maybe that's why Maestro doesn't want you involved. It's fishy that he doesn't trust you. Back in Rome he told Silvio to keep an eye on you during the mission; did you know that? Why should we trust you then, I asked myself. A-'

At those words the archer launched himself at his throat, grabbing the collar of his shirt. He was ready to speak but the door suddenly opened and both of them jumped like kids caught fighting by their parents.

Ezio glared at them but if he had seen them he chose not to talk about it.

'Follow me inside.'

They did as asked and their eyes fell on the old priest, a candle in his hand, sending shadows in the darkness over his face where wrinkles were making him look older than his real age. He was waiting for them near the staircase.

When the assassins approached he turned around and started his descend, for them to follow.

'How many of _you _are there?'

'More than five.'

'I can't let you all inside the forbidden part of the library. I won't! Those documents cannot be seen by so many pair of eyes.'

'You don't have a choice.'

He wanted to protest.

'You don't.'

The abbot nodded at one of the scribes who was watching with curious eyes the peculiar figures in dark cloaks that his abbot was bringing down to the lower levels of the library. Mattia watched in marvel how the stairs seemed to go forever, with each level the darkness approaching them more and more. He was amazed by the structure of this place; the tower, the walls, the stairs were all carved inside of the mountain.

'You said one of your monks was d'Espinay's inside man. Is it a chance I can talk to him?'

'I am afraid I can't do anything about it. An accident… ended his miserable life not long ago.'

'_How unfortunate_…'

Ezio did nothing to hide the sarcasm in his voice.

'God has his way of repaying us accordingly to our deeds. If that was his wish we have no place to dispute it.'

'Maybe help God's word to be clearer…'

The man chose not to answer to his attack.

Unnoticeably, the number of people walking down the large stares was increasing from 4 to 6, to 7, and a final person was waiting for them in darkness, at the base of the stairs. The abbot was sweating under his clothes. What he was doing was against everything that his role in this abbey was standing for.

Once in complete darkness and prey to the coldness of the rocks surrounding them, the abbot led them towards an enormous wooden door embedded in a wall made of the same material.

Ezio looked around, activating his eagle vision. The floor was probably right below the entire establishment. It was carved in the rocks but left unfinished and the surface of the walls unsmoothed. The only perfect part was the floor. He had barely given any attention to his surroundings. Right under their feet there was a carving of strange broken circles and lines intersecting each other and glowing in bright gold. He blinked the vision away.

'Is this… is this what the cardinal was searching for?'

Confused, the priest didn't answer right away. He had no idea how the assassin had seen through the darkness as he had carefully kept the light of candle away from the floor.

'Yes.'

'What does it stand for?'

'I do not know.'

At first Ezio thought the man was playing games again but this time his voice had been bluntly sincere and fair.

'Are you telling me that your abbey is trying to hide something from the outside world without even knowing what it is?'

'I am telling you that whoever came asking about this ended up dead. And whoever dared to venture where I am going to lead you, never came back.'

'Is there something more than this?'

'Something more?' The priest dared to laugh. 'Are you sure you know what you are getting yourself into, assassin?'

'I was hoping you would clarify that for me.'

A smile almost offensive reached the man's face.

'I wish God to be with you in that case. I am going to let you in the forbidden part of our library. No one was ever allowed to go inside. Books and paper kept inside should never be read by unworthy eye of humans.'

The man brought his right hand to his collar and inside the clerical clothing he was wearing. From there he took out a thin rope on which, at his chest, three keys had been hanging.

'When d'Espinay left I knew he was unsatisfied. I was sure he will return, wanting to know more than a simple symbol at the bottom of this tour. Instead, you showed up. May I ask why?'

'He's dead.'

The man froze for a second.

'Hmh. Not completely surprising.'

'It wasn't us.'

'I was not necessarily implying that. As the years go by I am more convinced that the symbol stands for death itself and nothing more.'

He approached the door and with shaky hands he put the key into the first lock.

But the metallic object refused to move.

'What in God's name…'

Simply by accident, trying to force the lock, the man pushed and the door budged open.

He stood petrified.

'It... it's impossible! The door needs to be opened only by the three keys that I carry with me all the time! How can this be?'

But Ezio frowned and with a shove at the abbot he cursed as he pushed himself inside.

'She's already inside, damn it!'

'She?' the mas swallowed. 'What are you talking about? A woman? In this abbey! It's an absurdity! No presence of a woman has ever desecrated the sanctity of this shelter!'

One of the assassin's went past him in his way inside.

'That's the least of your problems, priest!'

Recovering from the shock the man followed the assassins.

'Why haven't you mentioned this?'

'We have no time to lose. She's a thief. She's after whatever the cardinal wanted from inside here. She wasn't here too long ago. We need to close in on her.'

In haste the priest went to the nearest torch to light it up. He put the candle away and proceeded to light two other torches on the right wall.

Slowly a path was visible with tall bookcases four time their size running along the walls. The books and paper rolls were dirty, covered in dust and webs, in fallen pieces of wood from the old shelves.

Now, in the light of the torches the symbol was visible, repeated from place to place on the floor.

'Up ahead is a maze made of similar bookcases that goes to the central part of the library. That's the place that you're looking for. And probably so is your thief.'

They continued ahead in silence. The assassins were taking down the rugged cloaks one by one and discarding them. Lighting torches from place to place, they were making their way deeper into the library.

'But she doesn't know that, does she?'

'If all that she has is the information leaked from d'Espinay, then no. She doesn't know where in this library the maps are kept.'

'Maps?' Ezio shared a glance at the man over his shoulder.

'The ones of the catacombs.'

One of the archers frowned.

'What…catacombs?'

He grinned. 'You are right at their entrance. The forbidden part of the library is situated in the catacombs.'

It was as if only after the man had spoken the words the skeletons and bones through the books were starting to appear.

'This part of the catacombs is still well carved into the mountains. But at soon as you leave the library, without the maps you are a dead man. No one knows for how long they go or if there's another exit … to wherever they lead. It's dark and it stinks. They say that your blood freezes if you spend more than a day inside. For centuries, monks and those before them have believed that these are the gates to hell. And whatever your thief is looking for, or the cardinal himself was, is not the symbol, but whatever those catacombs keep hidden into their depths.'

They stopped when the torches they were caring uncovered three gaps, three different corridors.

'Great.'

An archer let slip through his lips.

The abbot glanced at Ezio.

'All three ways lead to the central library… eventually. That's where the maps are.'

'We need to know which way she went.'

'_Cazzo_ (damn)...'

They all looked at Ezio. He shut away his eagle vision.

'She went all three ways.'

'What?'

'She kept returning and going each way several times so her steps couldn't be used as traces.'

'Why would she do that? It would kill a lot of her time and surely she knows how close we are to her.'

At that Ezio faced the man who spoke.

'She's in a hurry but she's no fool!'

Suddenly two set of steps were heard coming from behind. Running towards them their steps would echo through the darkness of the halls.

Soon enough the white silhouettes of the two assassins left on guard emerged. Without even trying to catch their breath they searched for their maestro.

'They're here. Cesare's men are here.'

The abbey turned white.

'Damn, this is such a bad timing!' Ezio's voice roared with frustration. 'We need to move forward.'

He stepped further but the abbot stopped him.

'This is the end of the road. I have to return to my brothers. I have to warn them, to close the gates.'

'It's a foolish thing to do. If you go up there and they catch you they'll torture the information out of you. You'll die in pain if you're lucky.'

'I can't leave my brothers to the slaughter. I have no idea why you are ready to sacrifice so many lives for a thief that will probably die in there and for whatever these symbols mean but I hope for the salvation of your soul for you to be at peace with the consequences. I can't do that. I took an oath to protect this place and if it means it will take me to the grave so be it. I will lock the doors after me and you'll be imprisoned in here. I wish you good luck.'

Ezio frowned as the old man started to back away from them. He clenched his jaw and took a step towards him. With that he stretched his arm. The man was once a Templar; he had information too valuable for the order to be kept alive. By circumstances, Ezio saved him and spared his life. He was an assassin; they never saw eye to eye and his blade was still hanging above the man's head. But at that moment, he had no other thought than to respect his decision.

A bit worried at first, the man locked his arm around the assassin's.

'I wish you good luck as well, priest!'

The man nodded and with that he unclenched his grip and started to run back, towards the exit.

When they heard the door shutting closed, Ezio called for their attention.

'We have to move fast and we have to be clever about it. We'll split. The abbot said that all these three corridors lead to the central part. We'll go three by three. Ottavio, Mattia – you lead 2 of the groups.'

He stopped and watched them carefully.

'If you find her, don't hesitate. But only if you're completely sure of your advantage. Don't be fools! Don't underestimate her! Not because she's outnumbered, not because she's a woman, not because she seems easy to take down in a hand to hand fight. For your advantage avoid getting close to her; aim for distance. Don't get in over your head. Your mistakes will cost not only you but all of us. Did I make myself clear?'

They all nodded but not a word left their mouths.

The group split and disappeared into the dark corridors.

Mattia started to light up torches along the way. The silence was so repugnant that they could only think of the dead inside those walls.

'Is that wise? Wouldn't she see the lights if she was ahead of us? We'd warn her off this way.'

'You prefer to get stabbed in the back in the darkness? I'd rather see where the hit comes from.'

The assassin wasn't content with the situation but there was nothing that they could do.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

The young assassin looked at Mattia from the corner of his eyes. He was part of Ottavio's team usually but when they split they wanted to have a balance. So he ended up with Mattia and a knife user.

'Is it true what they say?'

By now Mattia knew where this conversation was heading. In the Brotherhood people loved to talk; especially the likes of Ottavio.

'That you… You know; that you know how this thief looks like.'

'Who told you that?' He decided to keep the conversation flowing. It bothered him but the young assassin was still a novice and it was easy to get information from him.

'Ottavio kept talking about it when Maestro put us under his lead.'

'What of it?'

'I was just curious…'

'You all saw her that night on the bridge, what more do you want to know?'

'How well do you know her?'

'I know that she's our target. And if you'd look ahead instead of looking at me you'd have less of a chance to get attacked.'

For a moment he kept quiet.

'He also said that she used to be Maestro's lover, until she betrayed him and killed his uncle.'

Not a single muscle moved on his face. But his grip tightened on the torch he was caring.

'If Ottavio knows so much about her why don't you ask him?'

This time he gave up. He was already ashamed to have pissed off one of his brothers with a higher rank than his.

This silence was maddening. And not only the one in this forgotten library, but the silence surrounding him; the place where Ezio had pushed him into. It wasn't fair. He couldn't conceive the idea that Ezio would think of him as a liability.

He started to count his own steps.

'She's a thief, not a murderer.'

The two assassins turned to him.

'What was that?'

'I said she's a thief, not a murderer.'

'She killed his uncle.'

'You don't know that.'

Then, the other person that had been quiet during their walk spoke up.

'We all saw her poisoning the guards and the cardinal.'

'You've killed your targets several times. Do you consider yourself murderers or assassins?'

At that both of them opened their mouths but no answer came out.

The boy wanted to say something but his words froze in his throat when a piercing yell echoed through the corridor. In an instant all three of them were on guard and without another lost moment they stared to run. Sooner than they expected, after several corners they found themselves in front of a massive door frame carved into the wall. A door made of iron bars was kept up by a set of ropes. But they turned the other way. This was is, the entrance to the central part of the library; and two other corridors were leading to it. From right in front of them they recognized the voices of their brothers. Mattia reached for his bow and so did the others with their swords. An arrow darter right by his shoulder from the darkness of the corridor and the young assassin froze.

More shouting followed and two torches were starting to make light into the corridor. Soon they could recognize Ottavio and one of the archers running towards them.

'Where is she? Don't let her pass through the gate!'

Panicked they looked around but the cape was nowhere to see.

From the other corridor, through the wooden bookcases Ezio heard commotion. They ran as fast as they could. The two assassins kept running blindly towards their brothers but he had to stop. It was dark but he liked to think his instincts were just in good shape. Either that or he knew her better than he had thought. His hand went for the crossbow. The vision helped him through the darkness.

He took a step, turned steadily but his eyes never left the tops of the wooden walls made by the bookcases. He tensed. Above their heads a dark shadow jumped from one of the wooden pillars supporting the ceiling, to a vertical grinder and on top of one of the bookcases.

He watched the red cape sneaking towards the end of the passage, to the gate.

'Close the gate!' He heard Ottavio yelling his lungs out.

The young assassin blinked. He was the closest to the gate. He had to react and put his body into motion. To him it seemed that an eternity has passed until he reached the three ropes holding the gate up. With shaky fingers that he felt that he couldn't control he started to unfasten the first knot.

'Block the fucking gate!' the voice went on. Ottavio looked back. Anger was building up at the thought that they might lose her again. She had been right there, in front of their eyes, up on one of the shelves, looking through the books and all it took her was a moment to sense them and flee.

When the knot was undone the rope skipped out of his hands and the gate fell a little, tensing the others two in its stop.

Ezio aimed.

The boy was cursing for the rope was old and slipping from his fingers.

The crossbow tensed as the assassin pulled the lever.

When the gate started to close the cape moved to make a jump.

Ezio held his breath as a sharp yell of pain pierced the hall. The body stumbled ahead, on the wooden surface. Her knees hit hard and the muffled sound of a heavy object echoed further, followed by abrupt wails.

The arrow had hit her. She hadn't seen in coming.

The other knot went loose and the gate fell once again.

Everyone froze at the sound and they could see the body crawling ar the top of the shelves.

Ottavio's emerging grin faded when the body pushed up. She tried at first to take out the arrow stuck in her thigh but only a trembled cry breathed through her teeth made her give up. She was up; she breathed in and her entire body shook before she pushed forward like a wounded bull.

The assassin let out another curse and he started to run backwards, eyes wide at the lack of understanding the enemy, but not for a second losing her out of sight.

Ezio frowned. He went for another arrow.

But she pushed harder! And she grew in speed. Another arrow shot right past her shoulder, piercing the cape. She jumped another one.

Ezio was ready to aim as well, alongside his archers.

The boy by the gate felt the pressure; his hands were getting in the way.

'Move aside!'

The yelling made him turn in horror.

The cape leaped from the case to a grind. From there to another.

Mattia had his hands on the bow but not for a second had he lifted it. He held his breath. For an instant she seemed to have lost her balance and he was ready for the fall.

But right there she took the jump. Right over their heads. It was madness. She would land right in the middle of them.

The boy by the door wanted to step aside but at the sight of the sword right above his head he stumbled and fell.

Her right arm stretched from under the cape and the cold iron of the grapple was thrown into the air. It hit the chandelier and got stuck in one of its circles.

The sword slashed the last rope and the gate started its vertiginous fall.

It all happened too fast. Ottavio turned around just in time to see the black cape fly right past the two assassins positioned in front of the gate and slide at his feet, under the closing gate. He thought she was dead. He swore that he saw the gate crash right on her but when the adrenaline washed away from his eyes she was nowhere to see.

The sound that the gate made in its fall was followed by the deafening noise of the chandelier smashing into the ground.

He swallowed and he felt one of his teeth cracking under the pressure of his clenched jaw: she had rolled to the other side.

The assassins barely had time to step away from the threat of the chandelier and were now coughing the dust that had risen in the air. The noise of the fallen gate and the wooden chandelier broken into pieces had started a monstrous echo through the empty halls.

Even without witnessing the scene Ezio knew what had happed. Taking his time he reached the end of the hall and his gaze fell on the assassins gathering in front of the heavy gate, trying to see through its bars.

He approached them and shoved Ottavio aside. He waited. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the other side, he managed to outline the figure of the fallen thief, trying to gather herself up.

She had cut the rope tying her to the grapple. The hood had fallen during the impact with the grounds and as she was trying to stand, her right leg was limping. Once again she brought her gloved hands to the arrow stuck in her thigh. She started to pull and if she felt pain she didn't let a sound escape her lips. He realized his mistake. The arrow had hit her thigh but no real damage was done. The hit had been deadened by one of the knife holster wrapped around her leg.

Once the arrow was out she huffed as she straightened. Her deep citrine eyes fell on him with such familiarity that the absurdity of what they have become made his stomach turn.

Her eyes sparkled with mischief and at the corner of her lips she wore a grin. Like that she took a step closer, out of the dark.

Knowing that she had caught him in her eyes she slowly opened her hand and let the arrow fall.

'Next time aim for the head, _chéri_ (darling)._' _her last word lingered a moment too long on her lips.

Her eyes shifted for less than a second towards his hand and her grin grew.

The tension was broken by the echoing of crying and loud noises coming from above them. The sounds of objects being thrown, the screams of pain, the constant noise of heavy steps and the sound of weapons clashing from above reached their ears.

The thief tilted her head.

'By the sound of it, it seems that you're going to need all the gunpowder and arrows that you can afford. I wouldn't waste any on a scum like me.' The taunting amusement in her voice gave them the false impression that she was laughing.

Slowly the figure slithered back into the darkness.

A chortle reached them.

'I'd wish you good luck but you know… competition is a _puttana_ (bitch).'

Her words left a sour taste in his mouth and for a moment they were somewhere else, younger; and now, with a tint of tragedy, the story was repeating itself.

And she was gone.

Mattia relaxed. She had escaped and they were now trapped, with Cesare's men threatening to burst inside the catacombs after them at any moment. Still, he couldn't help but feel amused by their final behavior.

'Get hold of the ropes. We need to bring this gate back up before they catch up with us. We'll cross with the ropes and cut them from the other side. It will buy us time.'

The assassins reacted on spot at the orders. If they had anything to add or to object about their situations towards their mentor they let the thoughts die.

She had to stop. The wound wasn't deep but it was still slowing her down. She had forced the arrow in when she pushed her body for the jump. And the landing made it worse.

Bent over she pulled the strap of the holster so it would numb the area a little. The woman allowed a huffed laughter before resuming her walk.

He had finally found the courage to shoot. It was about time. It was bitter amusement. After this they both knew it was no turning back. She started to wonder how long will she last. Time…..just a little more time, that's what she needed.

She brought her hand up and pulled the hood over her head. The figure walked for a small distance until the cold walls opened to a large round area. The same bookcases were disappearing into darkness, creating e perfect maze.

The thief crouched and wiped the dust off the floor with her hand. A gutter was carved circularly disappearing under the bookcases. She crawled to her left to discover a narrower one cut by another straight line. They were all part of a larger design. The thought hit her immediately. It was the same symbol she had followed to this place, only on a larger scale. Instinctively she traced in the dirt a smaller version. This part of the library was standing over the entire symbol; that's what it was, a map of the library. Now, if she'd only knew what those circles and lines meant she'd had an easier way to find what she was looking for.

The sound of the gate crashing to the ground again echoed to her ears. She had to move. She memorized the symbol once more and before picking a direction she wiped the symbol in the dirt with her foot.

The thief reached a circle of bookcases within the circle. Her eyes fell on several books. Some were written in Latin, some in Arabic and some in languages she had never read before. She opened one of them and others soon to follow. One thing they had in common: different representations of what seemed to be the same male figure. It reminded her of one of the old Roman gods, or Greek for that matter. She turned to the right out of curiosity and was not surprised to see a straight line of cases, in the middle, running to another round space. The symbol was not a map of library. Those lines and circles might as well have been letters or words. And this apparent maze was nothing more that the representation of the symbol. Chills ran down her spine; she was out of time but she loved every second of it.

She heard rapid steps approaching. The thief cursed; how could she have been so distracted. Right before the light of a torch could fall over her she drew between two cases and found protection into the darkness.

'She could be anywhere. This is too dangerous.'

'We need to move forward. She can't hide forever… and neither do we have that much time.'

One of the two assassins stopped at the sound thundering from behind them.

'They've reached the gate. How long do you think it will hold them back?'

With careful steps she ran along the corridor that the bookcases were making. She stopped when she felt a presence coming from ahead. Slowly she stepped back and fit in the gap between two of the cases, glued to the cold wall. They have split to search for her.

From under the edging of her hood she watched the 3 assassins pass her by. When they were far enough she slipped out. This was too easy she thought. Splitting was the natural thing to do to cover more space, but Ezio was making a mistake by thinking his assassins were trained enough to find her in the dark.

She took another turn and reached another small opened area. There was a table in the middle of the space. She looked around and her attention fell on one of the opened books on the table. With her hand the thief pushed aside the webs from the pages. Whoever was here last time had been in a hurry. She flipped one of the pages almost decomposing under her touch. The seal of the old abbey was scribed under the writings. She was getting closer. She needed those maps or, if the rumors about the tunnels under them were true, she might not make it alive from them.

The woman was ready to move when the noise of an explosion rose to a deafening pitch. She jumped right in time to avoid one of the bookshelves that came crashing to the ground. Those fools, they've blown up the gate. What the hell were they thinking? That bastard of Mancininever knew when to stop. He had more muscles instead of a brain. She ran. There was no more time.

Troops were approaching from all directions, beleaguering the library. She ran; she had to move forward. Somewhere to her left she heard the sound of swords clashing.

The thief sprinted to the left. She needed to remember the lines. If the seal was behind her all that she needed to do was to go deeper. The maps couldn't have been placed far from where she was.

She froze. Terrified she watched over her shoulders. Mancini's mercenaries weren't advancing inside. Instead the smell that was rising in the air let her know of the worst: they were setting the library on fire. They wanted to get the assassins out like ants.

_"__Merde! _(shit)….'

She quickened her steps.

A burning arrow flew right above her head and hit a shelf in front of her. With the old paper and the aged wood of the case the fire escalated immediately.

'Damn it!'

Her road was locked. She needed to find another way. She ran as fast as she could in hopes that the other way towards the center wasn't blocked. She heard another case smoulder and fall. From her left ashes were rising and an assassin stumbled from the smoke, coughing. She ducked back and slipped between two bookcases before he had the time to see her. Damn, she had reached the rocky border. She had to go back in from the start.

The woman lifted the scarf to her mouth to protect her from the unbreathable air. Following the arch of the wall with her left hand she continued.

Ezio advanced through the burning library. He couldn't command his men to face the troops of mercenaries. They would have been outnumbered and slaughtered in no time. He sent them looking for the thief. He knew he was asking too much of them but his judgment was clouded by the desire of ending this. His blood was fire as the thought that the final moment was approaching. It was now or never. They couldn't afford losing her again. He had pushed his men too far for this. He had consumed both energy and lost too much for such a small pawn. They simply couldn't afford more losses. He couldn't! And he wouldn't. He heard the man launching an attack from behind him. He spun and slashed his sword out and into the man's stomach. Furiously he pulled his weapon back and pushed the body. Blood was spilled over his assassin's clothes.

He turned; ready to move when a deep voice stopped him in his tracks.

'You seem in a hurry.'

The assassin narrowed his eyes.

'Donato.'

He waited for the figure to approach so that he could see him. With his sword drawn the man stepped closer, his left eye covered by a patch, a long gash running across his face, a present Ezio gave him during the last time they've met.

'I should have killed you when I had the chance.'

'You should have… and yet here we are.'

'I won't make that mistake again.' Still Ezio looked behind him. 'You'll simply have to wait in line.'

'Hmph, I'd say we end it now.'

The fire drew shadows on his face that enlarged his sadistic smile.

Ezio gripped the hilt of the sword in anger.

It was Mancini the first one to attack. The assassin darted out of the sword's way, blocking it with his own. With force he pushed the man and immediately he jumped after him. Mancini spun but not fast enough. Ezio was expecting the move and his sword followed the man without hesitation. It was not a crippling attack but his weapon had found its way through the man's armor. He went for a final blow when Mancini fended off his sword with a cinquedea.

An entire bookcase collapsed near them as he had to step away to avoid the fire. He stole a glance at the path behind him. If he lingered any longer he had every chance to get stuck in this burning grave. He needed to end this a way or another.

While Mancini was preparing for another attempt at his life Ezio simply backed away. When the captain launched forward the assassin pulled the thief's grapple he had attached to the belt and forced it open. At the right moment he pierced one of the shelves with the three claws and forcefully pulled the burning case jumping out of its way. The captain not ready for this. The heavy object fell, taking the man to the ground, blocking him under the flames.

The high pitched yells were only covered by the sound of fire surrounding them. It was not a usual way for Ezio to deal with this but he had to run.

_'Requiescat in pace'_. But as he dashed through the fire Ezio knew that his was an ugly death.

Shiva made her way through the burning walls. She was thankful that the more she was advancing, the fire was losing ground. Sadly, it wouldn't last for long. She stepped over a fallen chair. The central area looked more damaged by the time than the rest, which at first she had found peculiar. As she evaded the narrow path of books she found herself in a semicircular opening, with a long table situated on a platform. Most of the chairs around it were damaged or broken, scattered all over the area as if a fight had long happened here. Yells were emerging from all directions and the sound of fire devouring the library was catching up. She stepped towards the table. Only then she spotted two bodies of bones stretched at the base of the platform. She went further and she felt as if the echoes of her steps could be heard in the entire library. Now she understood what had enabled the faster damage of the objects and books. A cold breeze was moving the hems of her cape on the surface of the floor. If she was to follow the direction from where the wind was blowing she was sure to find the entrance to the tunnels in the catacombs.

She looked upon the table. A tall chair was blocking a clear view but the table was covered with scattered rolls of paper, maps and parchments. She frowned. Trying to contain her excitement she stepped without any more caution towards the table.

'Stop right there.'

She spun around at the thick Italian voice. In the light of the fire coming from behind she recognized the armor of a mercenary.

'I have no time for this.' She wanted to walk away but the man pulled his sword.

'I said stop there, thief!'

'Still your weapon, imbecile.'

'I take no orders from a woman.'

She dared to walk further towards the table.

'I don't think Cesare will be pleased to hear of your threat.'

'Cesare doesn't even know that we've followed the assassins this far; he is not the one filling my pockets. Mancini is. And he doesn't trust you.' She could hear the cold amusement in his voice. 'I don't trust you. No brother of sword of mine trusts you. And none of us like to take orders from a woman like they did in Lorraine. So I say to myself 'these assassins are after you. What does it matter who gets to kill you in the end?'

With that he ran at her and thrust his sword at her neck. She ducked under it and side-stepped, taking her knife out and stabbed him into his shoulder blade.

The man hissed in pain.

'You bitch!'

He plunged again at her but when his sword missed he brought his leg up and kicked her.

The metal on the boot hit her wound and the unexpected pain made her yell and her back hog. He seized the opportunity and hit her with his fisted hand across the face, sending her face down at the base of the platform.

She had been caught off guard. She hadn't expected him to deliver the blow at her thigh and she was not prepared for that kind of pain.

She tried to stand up. She grabbed the leg of the chair by the table and pushed herself up. Her right hand found the edge of the table and she was ready to spin when a brutal force hit her in the lower back and her upper body was shoved on the table. Immediately she turned, ready to slash the approaching man with her knife but it was thrown away from her hand when another punch hit the side of her face.

His forearm found his was across her neck, keeping her head to the side and air out of her lungs. She felt his reeking breath over her face. His left arm was damaged and all he could to was try and suffocate her with his forearm powerfully pressed on her neck.

A burning log fell somewhere behind the two.

She tried to grip his arm with both hands and push it away but he was too powerful. Her vision was starting to get blurry. Next to her, sitting in the chair and lying over the table was the skeleton of what might have been a priest. An arrow was stuck in the back of his skull. It must have been a quick death, she thought; unlike hers if it would come to that. She wondered which would happen next: would she suffocate or would her neck snap before that?

She watched the man from the corner of her narrowed eyes. She had long stopped the struggle. He must have taken it as a victory because his arm started to involuntarily relax.

Then she grinned and he watched down at her with confusion.

'You said Cesare doesn't know you're here. He'll be furious when I'll tell him that his mercenaries were slaughtered by a hand of assassins.'

He frowned. But that was the last thing he had the time to do before her hand forcefully pulled the arrow out of the skull and japed its tip into his eye.

The man launched back in pain but she grabbed the discarded knife and slashed his throat before his yelling had the time to be carried further into the library.

The woman coughed in despair to let the air in. She massaged her neck knowing that traces of her near-death experience were to last there for a couple of days.

Then, her attention went back to something her eyes have laid upon while she was struggling for her life. She grabbed the skeleton by what used to be the man's shoulder and brought it up.

A pendant was dragged on the table and fell hanging by its neck. She pulled until the neck snapped and the head fell.

It was similar to the symbol only the alignments were different. The thief looked on the table. She started to leaf through the old papers.

She stretched over the table frenetically, searching through the maps and broken books. Sweat was running down her temples.

A crack. The sound of scorched wood under the feet. Like burnt she jumped from the table and leaped towards the fallen body of the mercenary. She cursed. She cursed everything; her panic, her complete lack of attention, her repeated mistakes, her wounds. She snatched the pistol from the dead and pointed it up as soon as she was back on her feet.

Her lips trembled. She felt the taste of salt slipping in from the corner of her mouth. At the end of her pointing firearm was a hidden gun she knew too well. Slowly, unwillingly, she followed the line of the extended arm, to the neck and to the shadows that were hiding the eyes she was not ready to confront in this particular situation.

She wanted to gape for air. She was exhausted; still, she refused to move even for that.

'One of us will have to be the first to pull the trigger.'

His gut-wrenching voice made chills run down her spine while the dense atmosphere was suffocating her. His stand was outlined by the red colour of the place burning down on them, while denying her access to the emotions on his face. She really wanted to; now more than ever. She wanted to know what she will find in his expressions as he'll cut the string of her life. After all, she could understand if it wouldn't mean anything to him. Still, she'd take any other feeling instead of indifference. Hate; she would take hate because she knew that from where he was standing she was deserving it. She would take hate because it showed that she still meant something; that she was still relevant in his life enough to stir powerful feelings. She'd rather have him end her with satisfaction than indifference.

Yells reached them through the fire yet none moved an inch.

'You know… you've always had a very bad timing.'

'I heard you were no different.'

She bit her tongue. His words sunk and she felt pulled to the ground. That moment she tensed her arm to fight her desire to trigger the fire. That's what he wanted; to provoke her.

Right then she knew he was searching for her eyes. She felt his glare burn.

He saw her arm twitch. For a split of a second his finger jerked on his own gun. We wondered why he didn't end it there. He was ready to kill her. He had been since he had first tried to take her down with the arrows. Yet he stopped. He was aware of the dangerous game he was playing.

'I'll shoot you if you don't.'

Her words came out clear and perfectly articulated.

He would take her words for it. He fought everything his messed up head was suffocating him with. He fought it to the back of his mind. He had to pull the trigger. He had to take her down. Still, the thrill of not doing it was vining up his reason, poisoning it with ill, rotten desire to hit her in the leg; to damage her and drag her up from the floor, crush her against the table and make her pay for each and every moment of suffering, turmoil, misery and craving she has made him go through since their very beginning, even with the cost of burning together in this dark, damned place!

He tensed. His finger ran down to the trigger and started to push. And futile, against his better judgment, his body was not his own to command. The air that left his lungs as his entire body relaxed was the most painful thing he had ever felt. In the end… she could destroy his life; she could destroy an empire and her deeds could bring down the world. He could to nothing to stop her. In the end she was paralyzer. His hand left the gun.

He chose to shut his eyes and silence the sound of her gun. Still, he absorbed the noise in it all, waiting for the pain to awaken the sanity in him. In the end she had it her way. He had made her so insecure that she had gone for the trigger.

But he waited too long for a pain that never came. Long enough to hear the weight of a body hit the ground. So many thoughts clogged his mind. He felt the cold breath of death passing behind him and almost against his will he started to open his eyes. He watched the end of her pistol, still in the same place, aiming his way. But her gun had been emptied.

He forced himself to take a side step and watch behind, at the fallen body. The purple tunic was now tainted with dark stains and the grey hood was covering the mutilated expression of the man who often passed as an assassin. Cesare's dog; the man that Cavazza wanted dead. _Il lupo _was now lying lifelessly at his feet.

He turned back and looked at the woman before him. He couldn't see her face and truth being told he felt relieved by it. She let her arm fall and she found no reason to hold to the gun.

The sound of the metal hitting the floor rang before them. The fire brought down a beam between them and just then they realized where they were. She brought her hands in front of her face to protect herself from the heat. She bit the inner wall of her cheek until she felt the taste of blood. A curse slipped her lips as her eyes fell on the pendant she had left on the table. She made a run for it but when she launched after it an arrow hit the table, through the circle of the pendant.

With narrowed eyes she tried to distinguish Ezio's figure through the flames. But he hadn't moved. Her eyes skipped further. From one of the burning corridors an archer had her in his line of sight. She frowned and made another attempt to snatch the maps and the pendant. Yet another arrow hit the table, and another soon to follow, flying right in front of her eyes.

She snapped her head back at the archer. He was grabbing another arrow. Terrified she looked back at the maps. She had to make a decision. Next arrow would hit her. She had to take her chances. She would be no good to herself dead.

With a swirl of the cape she dashed into the darkness and followed the cold gust that would bring her to the tunnels.

Through the red veil Ezio couldn't say when she was no more. Instead, he advanced and created a path through the fire. The archer followed him. He glanced at the Templar but said nothing as he went past the body.

The assassin pulled the arrow out and let the pendant fall in his hand. He grabbed the maps that the thief had tried to retrieve and rolled them up.

The archer looked at his maestro and then stared into the darkness she had taken as shelter.

'I couldn't take a good aim through the fire. I'm sorry I missed, maestro.'

Ezio stood silent for a moment.

The young man was startled by the humour in the man's voice when he spoke.

'Did you now, Mattia?'

The assassin never looked at his protégé.

'Ever since a kid, you were a terrible liar.'


	6. the Fall

**The fall**

* * *

><p>A warm breeze came through the opened window playing with the discarded pages on the massive wooden desk.<p>

The woman stepped lightly around the room not to wake her husband, and blew off the candle. Softly pulling the windows closed she took in the smell of burnt wax lifting in the air. She smiled. Same routine: writing until he'd fall asleep from exhaustion. She kept telling him to stop when the night falls because he already had bad eyesight but she knew he would never listen.

In the pale light coming from the windows she caught glimpse of the piece of jewelry hidden between the papers. She had seen it before. It was an old, damaged trinket that he used to keep around with himself. It must have meant a lot to him. From time to time, when his face would darken and he seemed lost in his out thought, she could catch him taking the old brooch out of his pocket and stare at it for long minutes. She picked it up from the table. The woman had long given up asking him about it. He'd simply look up, startled, as if woken up from a bad dream, put it down and smile at her. One time he asked her if she ever felt like the past was haunting her. But when she got worried he simply laughed it away.

The brooch looked as if it had been though a lot. The rich green gem had a deep crack running from an end to the other and the gold frame was scratched and lost most of its shine. The fox seemed like it had seen better days.

She put it down. She was not going to pry in matters that didn't concern her. But she would lie if she were not to say that she was curious of the times her husband seemed miles away from her whenever his mind was trapped back into the past.

* * *

><p>She dared to lean a bit further from behind the wall. Her eyes searched the area and she got a bit worried when she could only spot four assassins in the large hall. It could only mean that the rest were scattered around and she should watch her back.<p>

She swallowed and held her breath. Denying the pain coming from her thigh she focused on the surroundings, and mainly on the enormous double door carved in stone at the end of the hall that the assassins have taken as a camp.

After being forced to run blindly into the catacombs she realized that on her own she might end up dead before finding the exit. They had taken everything: the maps and the pendant. So she had no choice than to wait for them to advance and follow their steps. But she couldn't keep up. The gash she had on her thigh slowed her down. After taking the arrow, rolling with it only made the tip go deeper and cut more through her skin. So she had to stop and put a piece of cloth around her leg to numb the area. She managed to move on and apparently they had found their way to the main entrance to the Catacombs. But she doubted that behind those doors she'll find the so called catacombs. She recognized the symbols running all around the doors. She had seen similar systems before. And she was sure so did Ezio, under the Vatican.

She clenched her jaw instead of letting out a curse. The more he would see the more he was going to understand what she was after. Right now she was concerned that he was nowhere nearby. The four assassins were gathered up, resting against fallen pillars around the hall and they were definitely waiting. She couldn't hear what they were talking, but suddenly one of them pulled a chain out of his pocket with something quite familiar hanging by it.

She stared back at the doors. Right in the middle it looked like there was a carved spot and she was going to assume that the pendant was going to fit there if she would have the chance to test it. But on both doors ran circles, larger and larger, all starting from the same spot under the carving. She narrowed her eyes. She couldn't jump in and take down the assassins. She needed that pendant but she wouldn't have the time to solve the mechanics of the doors before the rest would come down on her. She needed a closer look; and enough time to figure her way inside.

The woman pulled back and let her body down the wall. She checked the pouches of her belt considering what would be the best approach.

Mattia slid down the fallen wall.

'This exit is blocked.' It must have collapsed with the time and it would take too long to get everything out of the way. And there is no way we can pull wrecks this heavy.'

Ezio looked back at the map in his hand. He was not content with the news.

'Let's move to the next one.'

The young assassin approached him and looked over his shoulder at the old papers.

'This one is a long way north-west.'

'We don't have other options.'

He looked up at his Maestro, and calculated his next words.

'We could just try and figure out a way to open the doors. The corridors behind them seem wider and cleaner. If all these symbols are signs for exits then there are quite a few behind them. Sure, they seem far but it looks easier to cross.'

'If we can afford we'll stay out of those doors. And once we get out we should make sure no one else can get in.'

When Ezio started to move further he had no other option than to follow.

'You've seen those doors before.'

He took a moment before answering.

'No, not those. Something similar.'

'They don't look like anything made by the hands of men.' He stopped to carve a pillar for their path back.

'No. They don't.'

It was very hard to get any information out of the man. After the incident in the library he saw him gather the maps from the desk and the pendant he had trapped with his arrow. They started to call for their brothers through the fire and tried to hold still until, thankfully everyone made their way to them, leaving the burning library behind and venturing into the tunnels.

They started to analyze the maps and figure out a way around the cold, humid corridors. At first what looked like the inside walls of a cave grew larger and larger and signs of built up architecture started to show up. The corridors became taller with stone coffins placed inside the walls and strange pillars and engravings appeared in the light of their torches.

And then they reached the hall and the overwhelming pair of doors disappearing into the darkness above them. That was when Mattia felt Ezio tense. With only a glance at the man he read realization and distress. Whatever this place was, it was not the first time the man had set eyes upon something similar. That's when he ordered for everyone to stop there; rest; check for wounds and regain composure after the race they went through. In all this time, while the assassins were more than grateful to follow the order he approached the doors and inspected them in silence. He kept going from the maps to the doors without sharing any of his thoughts. When he finally turned to his men, Mattia was not happy with the new situation. He ordered some of the men to stay there as a meeting point and the rest to scout the area in case there is sight of the thief. And then he turned to him asking him to follow. He found it peculiar when he left the pendant with one of the archers at the doors, living strict orders that if they spot the thief they should do nothing risky and send for him.

'Why did you leave the pendant behind?'

'She won't give up that easy. She'll try to get it back.'

'And doesn't it make it safer with you?'

'She's been following us for a while. I need her off my tracks until we find a way out of these caves. She won't risk an attack if the doors are guarded.'

They walked through the darkness in silence.

'You are usually more talkative. I sense a sort of hostility towards me since this morning.'

Mattia was taken by surprise by the sudden change of topic. This was what he was afraid of: confrontation. He felt uncomfortable when Ezio asked only him to follow to help with the mapping of the area. It was true that he might have unintentionally bricked him out.

'Nothing of sorts.'

'Are you sure?'

The man didn't turn and made the question sound casual but there was a tricky linger in his voice.

'Yes.'

They took a turn to the left.

'Would you care to explain what was that fight with Ottavio about? I know he has a volcanic attitude but I didn't take you for the type of person to fall for it.'

He felt trapped. He knew what this was about but he felt too proud to say it.

'Trifles. Nothing important.'

'Then if there was nothing important maybe you should consider your attitude. If you think you've been through a lot and can't control your impulses maybe you should step down for a while from your attributions… I can understand if you're exhausted. You've been through a lot with this mission; there is no shame to admit when you're overwhelmed. It's better to take a bruise to your ego than to risk a mission or worse… the lives of those who depend on you.'

The young man frowned. He left insulted. But he bit his lip and swallowed his real thoughts.

'I understand. If that will ever be the case I will let you know.'

The assassin in front of him sighed. He looked down at the map and put a sign on another wall.

'Are you…judging my decisions, Mattia?'

The answer came too soon.

'No.'

'Well… you make it seem like that was the case.'

He pulled his chest belt.

'If you considered that you should push me aside from the mission I was in charge of, I trust your reasons.'

Ezio stopped and for the first time he looked at the man.

'Is that what you think I did?'

'You gave Ottavio authority over my men. You filled him in with a plan that I was deliberately left out. What could I make out of that?'

He stared for a moment at the assassin that had finally decided to speak.

'You think too much. We were out of time. I needed someone with a quick hand to take care of our advantage. Don't think that you are less capable than him. I didn't want you in the first line if things would have turned ugly for us. A single moment of reserve against Cesare's men and it might have been fatal for you. I am not sending my men to slaughter.'

'I don't hold back.' He let it out through his teeth.

'Just because I know you since you were little it doesn't make you less inclined to mistakes than the others. You may be one of my best men but you are by no means sheltered from bad decisions. I didn't leave you out or mess with your authority. I simply bought you some time to relax from the weight of your responsibilities in this mission and clear your head. Do you think I am blind, Mattia? Or deaf? Do you think I didn't notice that didn't shoot a single arrow at the gate when Ottavio was giving his best to keep her from escaping? What archer with a good aim can pin a tiny circle to a table and yet miss an entire body? Do you take me for a fool, Mattia?'

'I simply did what I thought was best.'

He stopped.

'I don't blame you. You may be wiser in this… but when I give you an order, you follow it. An assassination mission is nothing more than an assassination mission. Now we're trapped here and I can't have her dead until I find what the hell Cesare wants with this place.'

The man said nothing.

'It's up to you if this is how you want to act. But I can't have you making mistakes now. Those men would follow you to their death if they have to. I hope you are aware of that. And if that's not enough to make you value your decisions more then make sure I don't have to go back to Rome to explain to your little brother why you're not coming back.'

'I understand.'

He sighed and stepped backwards ready to start his tracking again.

'I can only hope it is so.'

But before they could move any further they heard the echoes of someone running towards them from behind and soon the form of an assassin emerged from the darkness. At the sight of them his face lightened up and he stopped with his hands pinned on a wall for support. He gasped for air a couple of times before managing any word out.

'Finally… Maesto… I… I found you…. '

Ezio narrowed his eyes.

'What is it? What are you doing here?'

The man looked up and grinned through his huffs.

'Ott-Ottavio sent me. We found her. We have her.'

The man tensed in a second and stepped closer.

'What?'

'We caught her sneaking not very far from the gates.'

His eyes went wide with consternation.

'And what did you do?'

'Ottavio is bringing her in, to the group. The new recruit caught her, imagine his luck. Now they are waiting for you at the gated.'

Mattia frowned. This should have been good news but he couldn't help but feel a sense of dread building up. He looked at his Maestro and voiced out what the man couldn't.

'How… did you say you got her?'

'She was found scooping around the area of the gates, probably looking around for a way to get closer. He spotted her from behind and we surrounded her blocking her escape.'

At that Ezio thundered and in an instant he set his body in motion, running back the route they have created.

'You bastards! I told you to stay put and notice me as soon as you see her. This might be a trap!'

The man remained stupefied as the two assassins sprinted past him and, against the complaints of his burning muscles, he followed.

Mattia ran side by side with Ezio.

'You think she might have let herself caught on purpose?'

'It's a strong possibility. She needs to get closer to the gates in order to figure them out. I left them there for the sole purpose of keeping her away. Let's hope we're not too late.'

They were almost there, taking a turn and finally seeing the light of the touches they had lightened at the entrance into the hall. He didn't know what to expect once he would step inside but as he was covering from the final distance a loud explosion reached their ears and smoke propelled through the opening.

"Cazzo!"

He brought his hand to his mouth and jumped into the smoke.

It was no use. The smoke was too dense to see anything. He heard his men cough all around him. For a moment he panicked. What if it was poison? His mind raced a thousand thoughts at the grim end. The image of the dying cardinal plagued his mind. What has he done?

And yet he felt Mattia venture further into the smoke past him.

He heard one of the men yell. 'She took the pendant!'

They were alright. His men were alright. It had been a distraction.

'She's at the gates!'

They were yelling. At times he would catch a glimpse of the assassin robes before vanishing again in the smoke.

Ezio made his way further into the hall.

He found an archer stumbling back. He grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him up.

Recognizing him, the man was grateful for the help. With his eyes barely opened and continuously coughing he pointed towards the direction of the gates.

'We don't know what happened. She was tied up. The woman asked for water and Giacomo went to her ….. then, there was this loud explosion and we got swallowed by smoke.'

The man advanced.

The smoke was slowly lifting and he could see the outlines of his men and the path to the gates. There was one person in front of them and was no mistake on who she was. He took his crossbow and fired at her.

The arrow pierced the cape and she let a sharp yell at the sudden pain. The woman sought balance in the doors as she brought her hand up to grasp the arrow stuck in her right arm.

She looked over her shoulder but the smoke was still dense enough for them to make contact.

The circles on the gates started to move. When Shiva returned her attention to the gate, Ezio cursed and went for another arrow. He watched in awe the stubborn way in which her hands grabbed another circle and started to push it around.

He snarled.

'Damn it woman! Step right now from the gate or next shot I won't miss!'

Yet she made no attempt to back away and continued to position the metallic circles around the pendant.

He aimed.

There was a loud roar coming from the doors and the circles fell in position. The gates made the ground shake as they slowly started to part.

He fired. But right then the thief launched her body behind one of the massive pillars to her left. The arrow hit the gate.

The doors were opening at a slow pace.

'You're trapped! There is nowhere you can go now, Shiva! You can't run, you can't fight. You won't make it for those doors alive.'

Behind the pillar, she gritted her teeth in pain as she forcefully pulled the arrow out of her upper arm. She trembled when she threw the arrow away.

The woman looked at the doors, taking their times to open. The pendant was on the door retracting to the other side. He was right. It was suicide to jump inside. She grabbed the sack of powder attached to her belt. Little was left. She had used almost everything in the smoke bomb she created for her escape. And she had no agitator to mix it with for another explosion.

She felt like crying. She was so close. After all she had been through. Not now…

Ezio waited for any sort of movement. His men were recovering from the events. He looked further to his right. Mattia had his bow up and ready, aiming at the pillar. He looked back at him. Ezio hesitated a moment but gave the nod. If she was going to do something foolish his archer was prepared.

'Don't test my patience!'

Shiva let out a long sigh and with her left hand she pulled the lace of her cape from around her neck. She pushed it off and exhaled, closing her eyes and resting her body.

'Shiva! This is your last warning!' He could have gone for her himself but he didn't want to risk it. He had a blind spot on the woman and in case she had another trick up her sleeve he had to drag her out.

She twirled the hood of her cape around her hands and looked at the doors once again. She bit her lip. The moment she would jump from behind the pillar one of them would fire.

The woman fixed her eyes on the pendant and holding her breath she started to count.

Ezio saw movement. He prepared his crossbow in case she would risk it and Mattia would have second thoughts.

And without a warning the cape flew at the opened doors. In that single instant Mattia released the arrow and hit the hood.

It was all that it took for another explosion of smoke hit their eyes and lungs. Mattia dropped his bow and went into an uncontrollable fight for air.

Ezio had to turn around and so did everyone else in order to avoid inhaling the horrible powder.

Shiva took advantage of the chaos and launched from her hiding place after the pendant, hissing at the pain in her arm when she reached for the object and the discomfort in her leg when she made it through the closing doors.

Without the pendant the heavy gates started to fall back in position.

Mattia looked up. He saw her disappearing through the gates and was shocked to see one of the assassins following her. He looked back. Ezio was too far. The smoke had not been as powerful as the other one but enough to take them by surprise and keep her out of sight as she passed through. One of his archers screamed at him. But Mattia returned to the closing doors. He frowned and ran inside.

His friend tried to keep up with him and took a halt by the gates trying to stop them from closing.

Two more assassins approached the gates.

'There's no stopping them! Get away before they crush you!'

'Mattia went inside.' He looked up at his brothers.

They exchanged looks.

'Come on!'

Both passed the gates and the third one squeezed through the remaining gap.

Ezio reached the gates as they shut with a heavy sound.

He hit both his palms against the cold stone.

'_Porca puttana!' _ His hoarse yell rang through the empty tunnels.

Guided by anger he turned around and cupped his temples with both his hands, aggressively pulling them over his forehead.

'Goddamnit, Shiva!' he felt blood in his mouth as he let the hissed words out.

The man looked around at the remaining assassins.

'Who's on the other side?'

Ottavio swirled the hilt of his sword in his hand, nervous as well, as he grabbed one of his brothers and helped him up.

'Mattia went inside and archers followed.'

'We can't find Giacomo either.'

Ezio spared another glance towards the closed gates. He felt powerless.

* * *

><p>She turned to the right in the large room and looked for a moment of rest behind the square pillars. The woman looked over her shoulder. It was too dark to see but she was being followed.<p>

'Damn it!' Some of them must have passed through.

She pushed up and sprinted ahead.

Heavily panting she tried her best to create a distance between them but they were strong and definitely not bearing any wounds. She ran as fast as she could, crossing the hall towards a tall corridor. That's where the walls were narrowing and she hoped that she'll be able to lose them at some point.

Mattia didn't lose the assassin in front of him out of sight. He heard steps behind him but paid no attention than to the man ahead.

Endless pillars were flanking his sides and through the adrenalin rush he thought he could see threads glitter in the darkness. A strange, unbecoming feeling was icing the blood in his body with each step he would venture further. It was as if he was stepping in dark, consuming void. Unnatural darkness surrounded him and in his flight, he could only see thin mercurial flashes on where the walls seemed to be.

He pushed his body further when suddenly the man in front of him vanished. For a second the thought he passed into a corridor but even if he couldn't smell or see it, he felt surrounded by thick vapors that left him completely lost of any direction.

He had to slow down. Trying to find his sense of orientation he shifted his steps towards his right in hopes to find the wall of the corridor but nothing ever made contact with his extended hand. Confusion numbing his mind he started to swing his arms around in hopes for anything material.

'Giacomo!' Mattia gave in and finally yelled after the man he had lost.

No answer. Yet, he could still hear the echoes of footsteps running. Too many, he couldn't figure from where they came and whose they were.

He looked down at his hands and for a second his vision turned wavy, a feeling of nausea overcoming him.

'Giacomo!'

And when he though he was going to receive no answer he heard a dreadful yell coming from ahead.

Shaken back into alert he stepped forward only to hear a familiar voice from behind.

'Mattia!'

He spun.

'Alfeo?' he recognized the voice of one of his archers and friends. He must have passed through the gates as well. A wave of responsibility washed over him. They could easily get lost around here, and yet he couldn't drop the single change of finding the people in front of him.

'Alfeo, follow my voice!'

He sprinted ahead and kept yelling to keep contact.

'Keep running!'

'Right behind you!'

Another voice rang through the suffocating darkness.

'Assuming that we're only running into a straight line!'

Mattia slipped a smile.

Nicolo was there as well. He felt more confident.

The path suddenly felt less smooth and rockier under his feet. Whatever sort of steam that was circling him was for a short while less dense. He was slowly descending and the vapors was irregular now. He narrowed his eyes. Finally he thought he could distinguish walls and Giacomo further ahead. He almost tripped and fell because he missed a step under his feet. Square platforms were descending and he felt his feet slipping on the black surface. He looked down and there he saw an abrupt slope, with a shattered surface. He caught sight of the assassin, trying to get up on his feet at the base of the slope. Lifting his eyes he thought he could see a shape of a body ahead but even with his eyes accustomed to the darkness he couldn't be sure.

He could only do one thing and he was not very pleased by it. He stepped further and tried to break his slide with his heels and left arm.

'Giacomo…'

But the man didn't answer. Instead he moved forward, getting his sword out.

Once he reached the end he looked up and there was no doubt. The woman was standing some good meters ahead of them, her back at them.

He found it strange. Why wasn't she moving? In the back of his mind he registered the sound of the others assassins approaching them.

'Turn around, thief!'

Mattia looked at the silhouette and then at Giacomo.

He took a step ahead and a couple more until he felt it. He froze and with wide eyes he stared at the man.

The thief barely turned her head at the approaching man. She said nothing.

'S-stay …. ' Mattia felt his voice die in his throat.

'Mattia!'

Through the waves of panic he remembers the men behind him.

'Stop! Don't get down here!' then he turned to the assassin.

'Giacomo, stop moving! Get back!'

Mattia tried to take a step back but the cracking sound reached his ears again.

The assassin looked back at Mattia and he could see sweat running down his forehead. He knew it as well. Probably he knew it from the moment he had fallen down the slope.

The archer looked up at the woman. Only then he saw her body move as she let out a long exhale and, with her hands almost up in the air she dared to turn her body more.

The assassin looked at her.

'Throw the pendant!'

'Giacomo! Let it got! You need to make your way to the wall and back!'

'We can't leave it! We can't get out of here without the pendant!'

'Don't take another step ahead, do you hear me?!'

Suddenly it felt as if something awoke under them. They felt the ground shake and something broke, falling in the void under.

It had been a pillar. They were standing on a suspended bridge and it was collapsing with them. Made out of blocks of damaged stones the bridge was old enough, and with cracks deep enough to fall at any brutal movement.

The thief took advantage of their yelling and with precautious moves she went for her last grappling. She eyed the wall to her right. She needed a steady point where she could fix it.

'Throw the pendant!'

But she acted as if she didn't hear him. He swallowed.

'Giacomo, I know what you're thinking! It's not worth it! Please, move to the walls!'

Mattia tried hard to sound collected but he himself felt lost. He would have done the same but both his back and the access to the wall on his right were damaged.

The archers at the slope were watching the scene in horror.

'Mattia, I'll try to slide down after you.'

'No, it's too dangerous. Any more weight will take us down. Stay back, please.'

The thief held her breath. She pushed the claws out and without stepping out of place she leaned to the right.

That's when the assassin jumped.

She hadn't seen it coming and neither did Mattia. He took a leap at her and took her down. The grappling escaped her hand.

A deafening holler resounded from under them and loud cracks shook them as pieces of rocks started to fall.

Mattia had no other choice than to throw his body as powerfully as he could towards the stony walls. But that was not enough. He couldn't grip the edge and he fell forward. The falling stopped sooner than he would ever imagine, the tiles of rocks cupped precariously in the metallic structure of one of the sustenance pillars. He was trapped. Lying on his stomach he tried to look down into the endless darkness and only that was enough for the remaining tiles to crack again.

When the tiles started to move both Shiva and the man were thrown back. She watched horrified how the grappling was slipping towards the fallen tiles in the middle. She kicked him off and launched after the metallic claw. As soon as she grabbed it she pinned its ends in the stones and started to push her body back against the falling pieces. The man slipped past her and grabbed her middle. The suffocating force hit her but the despair made her push her limits and reach for a wall, in hopes of finding a more stable tile. Her claw gripped on metal and she let out a muffled yell as her injured arm almost gave up to the weight. The man jerked in an attempt to grip her better but only got the pouch of her belt. His fingers plunged dipped into it but the soft leather wrinkled in his palms and his nails dug in her skin through the shirt. The tile under him fell and he lost balance.

She looked down at him. His face was convulsed into an ugly expression of fear. The only hand left was around her pouches. The threads holding them gave up and out slipped the pendant.

She protested in horror as he slipped taking the pendant down with him.

'Noooo!' She threw her free hand after them in vain as the man was taken by darkness, taking the key with him.

The sound of rocks hitting the bottom went for a while until even the heavy echoes stopped, letting silence install once more.

Shiva was hanging by the grapple. She looked up and saw the remaining assassin,trapped on a precarious tile of stone. Looking even further she saw the rest trying to seize the situation. She let out a heavy sigh and looked to her left to the other side of the bridge. Most of the construction had fallen. But maybe if she was careful enough she might be able to make it to the other side, following the sides of the walls in which the bridge had been carved. And yet… the pendant was lost into the lower levels. She tried to find something on which to pin one of her feet.

'Mattia! Hang on! There must be a way to get to him!'

She stopped and looked back at the assassin. Once again she looked at the other end of the bridge. Yet she tried to wet her lower lip, feeling her entire mouth dry. After the short moment of rest she gripped her claw with both hands and brought both her legs up, to her chest, pushing her entire body up, over a still standing ledge of the bridge. Assured that it wouldn't fall, she laid on it in order to flatten her weight. Taking a deep breath she started to crawl back towards the assassin.

Without completely lifting his head he felt movement and looked up.

She took her time. What she was doing was both stupid and unnecessary risky but she wasn't ready to tempt fate more.

He was trying to steady his breathing. That's when her light ochre hair appeared from the tiles above. The woman slithered closer to the edge.

'Don't move until I say so.'

She looked back, past her shoulder at the grapple, hoping that it will hold both of their weight if it had to. She extended her arm down.

'Grab my hand.'

The assassin looked at the gloved hand in front of him and hesitated. On an impulse he raised his arm but the movement was too slow and another crack formed on the thin tiles.

'Grab my hand, now!'

'We're going to fall!'

'Well… either way, you're going to fall. What's there to lose?'

He looked into her eyes. And as the tiles broke he launched at her arm. She gripped him as powerful as she could and tried to help him up.

Small particles started to break from the platform. The metal sustainment broke and the tiles dropped. He slipped downwards. She tensed both her arms and clenched her teeth as her muscles burnt.

Her attention snapped at the grapple. The gaps around its claws were getting larger and soon it would slip out. She watched powerlessly as the grip was breaking away. There was nothing she could do to prevent it, and there was only one way for them.

'Hold tight, boy!'

He said nothing but his clutch got tighter.

Eventually the hold gave up. The tiles broke apart and the two bodies were devoured by the darkness.


	7. Pendulum

**_Pendulum_**

* * *

><p>The fall seemed endless.<p>

She threw her arm aimlessly after support, the claws of the grapple flickering as it grated along the rocky walls. Her leg caught a poignant ledge and she found momentum to slow their fall but both of their bodies took in the impact with the irregular layers of stones. Desperately she pushed force into the grapple in hopes that it will take a grip on something. Her whole side skimmed on the impact with the walls, piercing through her sleeve.

With a tearing wail she felt her left arm dislocate when the hook finally got stuck and she fought for resistance. The arm that had been damaged by the arrow trembled violently and with teary eyes she looked down.

Her fingers were shaking on the man's hand and she couldn't control them any longer.

'Hold-on. Don't let go of my arm.'

Mattia obeyed and looked down. It was darkness. He couldn't see the ground. When their bodies stopped, because of the speed they had, both hit the wall they were hanging by.

She looked up at her hand, clenched around the tool.

'It won't hold forever.'

Their break from the fall was short lived. The grappling moved; they were going to slip again. It was partially because of her. Her arms were shaking so badly that the hook kept shifting on the poor grip it got. It finally gave up. And her hand involuntarily let go of it.

Both of them went crashing down. When her body hit his he grabbed her middle and glued her to his chest, sheltering her fall. Both closed their eyes, waiting for the impact.

He hit the ground first and his throat released a heavy, agonizing scream. She was sent rolling backwards, hitting against the rocks.

When his body collided with the cold stones he thought air left his lungs, never to return again. He gasped and twisted in agony.

Siva closed her eyes and she breathed through the high-pitched noises in her head. Everything was spinning and her body felt heavier than ever. The woman forced her eyes opened eventually and with languorous efforts she turned her head to search for the assassin.

Stiff groans were hissed through his clenched teeth. She tried her best to recover control over her body and push herself up. First using her arms she turned on her hands and legs and half crawling half finding stability on her legs she approached the man.

She searched for visible wounds.

'Can you move?'

He coughed.

'Do I have to?'

The woman felt like laughing at his bitter humour but because of the pain in her body, her laughter ended up sounding like a squeaked cry.

She passed a hand under his shoulder and grabbed his arm with the other one, trying to help him out. He moved, gripping for her but a sudden sharp pain inside him made him stop and bite his tongue not to weep.

She felt it.

'Stop!'

'What is it?'

'I think I broke a rib or two.'

'Let me have a look.' She went to grab his shirt.

'No. I just need a moment longer to rest. I'll be fine. It could have been a lot worse.'

But that didn't make it any better for either of them.

'Mattiaaaaa!'

Voices reached them from above.

From her knees she looked up.

'We're down here!' she yelled back.

When they called for his name it was a desperate yell but the assassins were not expecting of receiving an answer.

Crouched near the edge, Nicolo looked up at his companions.

'They're alive.'

Exaltation and dither found the way into their minds.

'Is…is Mattia ok?'

Shiva eyed the assassin and searched for his eyes.

'Yes, he's alive!'

They exchanged worried looks.

'Then why isn't he answering.'

'I am alright, Alfeo!' he gathered air in order to respond but he instantly regretted it, the pain hitting him thousands times harder.

It was a moment of silence before the voices came from above again.

'Are you trapped there? Can you see anything?'

The woman looked around for the first time. She returned her attention to the man and he nodded shortly at her. She fought her will back and pushed her hurting body up. They had hit the wrecks of the fallen bridge. She needed to jump off them to search the area. Slowly, not wishing to add more pain she stepped around familiarizing with her surroundings. She went first for the walls which lead above. With a little effort they were climbable but neither her nor the young assassin were in any condition to make their way back up. She narrowed her eyes trying to see through the darkness. The whole place was in ruins. A thought crossed her mind and she panicked. What if all of this was for nothing? What if this place had nothing to give? It looked deserted, empty and dead. She stepped further. Finally she took her left glove down and put her hand in front of her while she stepped ahead, eyes closed. There was a cold air… barely but without a doubt; there was an exit somewhere in front of them. Where it lead she had no idea, but it was better than nothing.

'There's a path ahead!'

The archers considered her words. One of them approached the edge on the left.

'There's no way in which we can make it across. The other side is far away.'

'What do we do?'

'We need to get Mattia out of there!'

'And get him where? There's no going forward and there's a dead end behind us now.'

'We could try to go down after them.'

'How?! It's too dangerous.'

'Look. I don't know what those carvings are in the walls but they run down the walls. They are not the safest things but we could make use of them to descend.'

Nicolo followed the lines that Gaetano was pointing at. Their friend didn't look convinced.

He turned at him.

'What other choice do we have? We're as trapped as they are. If what the woman said is true at least there's a chance to find another route. The pendant is down there as well. We've seen what it can do. We need that if we want to get out of here.'

The archer glared at the darkness below them.

'Stay there. We'll find a way down!'

The lying assassin couldn't help a grimace.

'I wasn't ready to go anywhere anyway.'

Shiva let a weak smile reach her lips.

Mattia couldn't focus or see her clearly but he followed her silhouette in the dark. 'They can't return through the gates, can they?'

'No. Without that key the mechanisms won't start.' That alone reminded her of the fate that the pendant had. She started to frenetically look around. She felt a sudden warm breeze and her vision waved. She put it on the experience of the fall. The woman searched the area, getting used to the aching in her body. Thinking of it, she was extremely lucky. She stepped up some fallen stones. Luck was not all she had in the fall.

'Why did you do it?'

The man was brought back from his thoughts by her question. He was trying to rest his upper back on the rocks as he checked for other injuries. His legs seemed fine.

'Do what?'

She grabbed a ledge to help herself over a piece of the broken bridge.

'..take the hit for me...'

He considered her question and how he had no answer to it.

'I didn't think of it. It just happened.'

She narrowed her eyes to focus better into the darkness.

'If the remaining distance would have been bigger you could have died.'

Mattia grimaced as he tried once again to get up. This was going to hurt so much.

'Well… I didn't. So we were lucky.'

She froze. Eventually she sighed and raised an eyebrow.

'He was less lucky than us.'

He looked first at her and then followed her line of sight. Meters above them, the body of Giacomo was hanging, impaled in a metal beam coming out of one of the fallen structures.

'Brother…'

His grieved whisper made her realize how cold her joke must have sounded for the man. But she lost no time and climbed her way to the man.

'What are you doing?'

She didn't answer. Instead she searched around the body. She couldn't catch sight of the pendant anywhere on him. She heard noises coming from close above them. His assassins were close.

She stepped aside and searched the area to the left. As the men were descending she quickened her search. She pushed some rocks out of her way and advanced into the area behind the body, scavenging through the wrecks.

When Alfeo finally could see the ground he dropped down. He looked around and spotted Mattia right away. The man grinned at his friend. The archer ran and went by his side.

'You lucky bastard! I think I died inside three times climbing down there walls!'

The man kept smiling.

'I had a bit of help.'

At that his friend looked up, remembering that they were not alone.

Two more assassins dropped and Mattia was surprised to see Gaetano there as well.

'Did anyone else cross on this side?'

'No, just us. We have no idea what happened with the rest.'

One of the archers went for his bow and tensed the wire.

'Hey you! Come back closer where we can see you!'

'Nicolo…' Mattia tried to protest.

She must have heard it but didn't turn. Her attention was caught by something else. Yet, she answered.

'You wouldn't be that stupid to fire that arrow.'

He looked at his companions.

Mattia instead, followed her moves.

Shiva pushed a rock and stretched her arm under a heavy tile. She gritted her teeth as she placed her side on tile and forced her arm further.

'We have strict orders to take you down. Give me one reason why I shouldn't.'

'Without me you'll die looking for a way out.'

The man licked his lips and his palm was sweaty on the bow.

'She's probably right' whispered the injured man. 'We don't know what this place is. Ezio didn't say anything about it; we don't know what to expect. She's the best chance we have around it.'

'What if she'll lead us into a trap? You can't trust her!'

'We won't!' he almost hissed keeping an eye on her.

The man lowered his bow and Alfeo took the chance to step in.

'Mattia, this could be too risky. We don't know her!'

Hearing this, his head snapped at his men and he glared through his eyebrows.

'Except we do!'

His low tone took everyone aback but there was a mutual understanding between all of them; that alone made them relax a bit.

The woman let out a victorious exhale and she stoop up, attention placed on the object in her hand. She clutched her fingers around it and proceeded to put it away in her belt.

'Is that the pendant?'

She looked up for the first time and started to make her way back to them;

'Give it here.'

She simply glanced at the man from behind her eyelashes and grinned at his ridiculous demand. Instead of answering she looked at Mattia.

'Can you stand?'

The man nodded and forced his body up. He wanted to scream so badly because of the pain but he huffed powerfully to mask it behind the deep breaths.

The woman eyed him suspiciously as one of his friends helped him up.

While they checked on him her attention went to the line of the wall. She acknowledged the pain in her left shoulder for the first time. She circled it with her right arm and pulled. Her bones cracked.

'Aaaarh! Sun of a gun!' she let out a growl in hopes of denying the cry.

They followed her figure as she went and grabbed something from the base of the wall. It was her grapple. She checked its condition and then leaned on the wall as she took the remaining rope from her belt and attached it to its end.

'There's an opening straight ahead. We should move that way.'

One of the assassins advanced past her and stared into the darkness.

'We'll need light.'

Gaetano went for his belt.

'Give me a moment.'

He got out a small bottle and grabbed a handful of arrows from his quiver. On the ground he put them together and ripped a piece from his white cape. He fastened it around the tips of the arrows and spilled the content of the bottle over them. The assassin looked for two small stones around him and started to hit them until sparkles came out. After several tries the cloth caught fire.

Smirking he grabbed it and got up.

'This should last for a while.'

The woman put the grapple back to its place on her belt and pushed herself off the wall.

She walked side by side with Alfeo who kept stealing glances her way. Nicolo followed behind with Mattia and Gaetano.

They walked in silence for a long time. They were content to find out that an entire corridor was ahead of them and they were not going towards a dead end. The rocky walls of the inside of the mountain were shaped from time to time, and the more they advances the smoother they became, being soon replaced by the carved halls that they had seen on the upper level.

Nicolo watched Mattia with careful eyes and made sure that his whispers weren't carried to the two people in front of them.

'Do you think we should have remained behind? Would have Maestro found a way to get past the gates?'

'I don't think so. They were too massive to use force on them and…. without that key there was no way in which they could make them opened.'

'What do you think they are doing now?'

'What they should. Maestro will lead them out. We marked our way towards an exit before all this happened. He'll probably get them out and look for another entrance to the tunnels.'

'What if they won't find any?'

He didn't answer immediately.

'They will probably wait for a while for us.' Mattia made a pause and looked at his friends. 'If we won't appear, eventually they will block any access to this place.'

'What!' his raised voice caught the attention of the people ahead. But Shiva faced the corridor ahead of her, not showing any interest in their conversation.

'He has to. Whatever these walls are hiding… it's better out of Cesare's reach.'

The man fell silent and Mattia looked at him with an expression of sadness written on his face.

'Why did you follow me? You were safer up there, with the rest! Chances are we're going to die down here.'

None of the two men answered at first.

'Mattia, we're brothers of the same oath. And you are not just our leader. We go a long way back. You, Alfeo, Gaetano and I. We've already lost Vittorio. We'd rather risk it together than having to turn back to Rome with the guilt of leaving you behind.'

Ahead of them Shiva was too focused on her surroundings to pay attention to the intrusive assassin next to her. She stopped.

'Bring the torch closer.'

Gaetano responded and he stepped faster, near her. She stopped in front of a niche and the fire brought light over similar circles they have seen since descending under the abbey, only aligned differently.

'What are these?'

'My guess they are words….' She stepped towards another carving. '… maybe sentences.'

'How can broken circles mean anything?'

'The library was under one of those, and each row of books was under another circle in circle.' She turned around to look at them. 'Has any of you seen the maps?'

'I did.' Mattia stepped closer.

'Do any of these look familiar to you?'

He stared at the niche but nothing came to him.

'Maybe… the position was different... the breaks and lines as well.'

The man pointed at one in particular.

'This... this for example was down the path I took with Master Ezio when we – ' he stopped. '- when we looked for a way out. But… not in this position… The circle was turned and this line, cutting through it was above.'

She stared for a while, then stepped back, the muscles of her face relaxing a bit.

'Yes, and so were we back then.'

Mattia looked back at the symbols. It all made sense.

'There is an exit somewhere around here as well. We just need to figure out how to reach it.'

They continued down the web of corridors and at times Shiva took it upon her to decide which way they should take. She kept memorizing the symbols they walked past and locating them around the rooms the crossed.

'Who… made all these?'

'Depends on whom you ask.'

They weren't expecting the thief to answer their question.

She took a turn to the left.

'Gods, old or new; the power of nature, ancient civilizations… everyone has a different answer when it comes to places like these.'

'Have you seen something similar before?'

Shiva paused. 'Heard of one… not as big as this place, though. I've been looking for one of these vaults for a very long time.'

'Is this what it is? A vault?'

The woman stopped.

She looked back at the assassins with a questioning expression.

'What has Ezio told you about this place?'

Hearing his name spoken so casually by her felt strange. Mattia continued past the woman.

'Nothing. He didn't want to open the gate.'

She frowned, but followed.

'Then why was he here?'

Their steps were echoing through the corridors.

'To assassinate you. He followed you here.'

She stopped again and she gazed at the archers who were now joining Mattia ahead. They exchanged a grave look.

A sneer left her mouth as she started to walk again.

'All this effort just to take me down. I don't know if I should feel flattered or terrified. When did I become more important to him that his affairs with Cesare?'

'What do you mean? He won't let the Vatican dog have what's inside these walls.'

'Cesare?' her eyes widened in realization and not a single word slipped through her lips anymore.

She turned around still petrified at the situation. Just then the thought of how pointlessly dangerous this was now and how avoidable it could have been, came crushing on her. If only Ezio would have… stepped down. If he wasn't there for the artifact how did he manage to track her? Who tipped him off in such a wrong direction?

A cold breeze hit them.

'Did you hear that?'

Everyone looks at Nicolo.

'Hear what?'

The man looked at the faces of the people around him, confused and worried.

'The children, didn't you hear them?'

The woman frowned.

'There are no children down here...' his friend put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

'But I swear, I thought I could hear them run and laugh….for an instance….'

Everyone went silent. Nothing but the small drops of water dripping somewhere in the corridors reached their ears.

'You must have imagined it.'

The man sighed.

'If this place is going to play with our minds as well…'

Shiva fastened her peace.

'Keep moving.'

They arrived in front of a set of stairs leading into another corridor. She went ahead and they followed.

'There's something wrong about this place.' One of them whispered.

'I know…I felt it too since I stepped past the door.'

Mattia froze and grunted in pain.

'What is it?'

He searched for support on the nearby wall.

'Nothing much… just some injuries caused by the fall. Let's not stop.' He pushed up and just to prove his point he quickened his steps.

Alfeo was the last one and kept an eye on Mattia. He knew the man better. Growing up together and sharing everything like brothers made it easy for him to read his body language. Nobody liked this place and he was pushing his limits just to ensure that his men would reach the outside world safety. His eyes fell on the woman. This situation was more than complicated. He was brought back from his thoughts when the smell of burnt wood reached his nose. He looked up just in time to hear the roar of the falling beam. An enormous roof came crushing under the pressure of flames right down on him. He jumped out of its way and hit the cold wall of the corridor. He saw the tiles falling on him but he couldn't close his eyes at the shock. He held his breath and waited for the pain. They fell right on him and yet nothing happened. They crashed on the ground and vanished at his feet. He was paralyzed with fear.

'Alfeo?!' the distant echoes of a familiar voice yelling at him became more and more powerful until he shook his head and turned to the people staring at him worried and confused. For a moment he forgot where he was.

'Alfeo! What is it?' Nicolo went near him.

The archer rubbed his eyes with his hands and let out a loud shriek.

'I… I thought I saw… fire.'

They looked around suspiciously. They were in the middle of a long, dark and narrowed corridor.

Shiva frowned. Still she waited not a moment more and went ahead.

Mattia glanced at her then turned to his friend, deciding not to talk of it.

'Come on, the sooner we find the way out, the better.'

Still lost, the man put his body into motion. One of the assassins looked at him.

"What is happening to us? Brother, what did you see? An illusion as well?'

But his face darkened as he refused to talk.

'There's light ahead.' Came Gaetano's voice who was ahead with the woman.

That alone motivated everyone to cross the corridor faster.

'It was no illusion, Nicolo.' he swallowed. "I saw home burning.'

'Our hideout!?' he whispered panicked.

'No… back home. When … when Monteriggioni burnt.'

Both fell quiet.

It was a cold light at the end of the corridor and Gaetano went ahead of them. He was the first one to emerge into the large opening. When Shiva followed, she had to blink repeatedly to get used with the surroundings. It was a vast grotto, perfectly round, with a circular lake of clean, calm water in the middle. The light that they had seen was the reflection of millions of cracks and crevices in the tall rocky ceiling, the only part still natural about the area. The walls and ground followed the same pattern with engraved metallic grooves and the same coded symbols at the entrances.

Shiva stepped down the stairs and looked around. There was only one other way out and it was on the other side of the lake. They had to go around it to reach the exit.

Nicolo let out a sound of discouragement. As everyone else, he was hoping they would have reached an exit.

'We're close to the exterior of the mountain though, if light can get through.'

'Let's hope the other corridor will bring us even closer.'

'It will… eventually…' they all looked the woman who was returning from one of the familiar niches. Instead she took in the exhausted and worn down bodies of the assassins. She desperately wanted to get out of this place; and she knew that the more time they were to spend, the worse it will be for all of them; those visions were not completely strange to her either. She too had witnessed the heavy air and voices that did not belong to this place, but she decided to allow the men a moment of rest.

'You should tend to the torch again. Here while we have some light. It doesn't look like it will last for much longer.'

The assassin looked at the dim fire he was holding to.

'Nicolo give me some of your arrows.'

The man was not too happy but he obliged.

'Also, I'll want your belt.'

'Why mine? Can't you ask someone else? I already sacrificed my arrows.' But nevertheless he started to unfasten the red material from around his waist.

Nicolo put his hands on his knees and exhaled. His muscles were still hurting from the climb. He looked at the leader of his group. He was bruised and his clothes torn. Unnoticed his eyes shifted to the thief as well. She was in a similar condition. Her left sleeve was torn from the shoulder and her trousers cut in several places. The corset she was wearing must have protected her middle area for any major external damage. Not the same could be said for the upper part and arms, only covered by a loose dark burgundy shirt. She was looking around the walls, following the directions of the grooves.

'Mattia, don't you want to sit?' He returned to his friend.

'No.' He gave him a concerned smile. Like everyone else he was amazed by the sort of place they had stumbled across under the old abbey. 'But your long-bow as a prop doesn't sound bad.'

The assassin grinned and gave it away. He sat on the cold pavement.

'Not a scratch, though!'

Shiva approached the edge of the lake not far from them and stared down.

Mattia hopped in order to turn and watch her. After a moment he decided to speak.

'You're bleeding.'

She continued to look into the waveless water.

'Oh really… from which of the wounds?'

He was taken by surprise by her dry humour and not controlling his instincts he let out a short laugh. That fall made both of them go through all sorts of different types of pain.

'I meant your arm…'

She looked down at the place where the arrow had pierced her muscles.

'Well… his aim could have been better.'

He raised a skeptical eyebrow.

'I aimed for your head.'

At that she actually looked at him directly.

'I was counting on that.'

He chuckled at her smart smile.

'Smoke ball, I should have known!'

Unaware of the conversation that was taking place Alfeo advanced from his tour around the area.

'This place seems….dead.'

Shiva looked at him.

'Probably because it is.' She stared back into the water. 'You've felt it as well, haven't you… the heavy air. Those… visions… will only get worse as we get near the vault.'

'I thought we were trying to get out.'

She almost snarled. 'I wouldn't leave without at least trying to get what I am here for.' From the corner of her eyes she eyes the assassin who was about to protest. 'And like it or not, the way out is through the vault.'

'These visions… they are not created…'

'Memories?' she only half asked half answered to their distress.

'It's like we're living through them again.'

'It's more than that... I saw us… I saw these stairs we came through before we actually got to them.' Gaetano said without looking up from his working hands.

The frown on the woman's face only grew.

'It's as if time has no rules inside here.' Mattia voiced what was eventually on everyone's mind.

Gaetano took his time to lighten up the next torch. He could have done it easily but a rest was well received.

Mattia took a step closer to her.

'What is it?'

She paused and bit her lower lip.

'Have a look at the inside walls of this.' She nodded towards the water. 'They are carved, calculated. There are tunnels on the sides. This … is not a lake. It looks like a tubular basin. Does this look normal to you?'

'Nothing of this place is normal for any of us, Shiva!'

Tension rose when Mattia uttered her name, with such confidence and almost demand. The archers exchanged gawky looks. 'When I took the lead for a tracking mission in the valley of Strasbourg the thought of my men… my friends being trapped in this horrid hell never crossed my mind.' His voice hardened. 'Are you sure you know the way out?'

The thief stared for a moment into his tired eyes.

'Yes.' She turned to the niche and got back closer. 'This… this is the vault room.' She pointed at a full system of knotted circles. 'We have to go through this room to reach the other exit. We should be close.'

'How do you know all these?' the archer with the lit torch approached the engravings.

'I've been spending a lot of time searching for these.'

'A lot?' asked Alfeo.

She moved away and started to walk towards the exit.

'Years.'

Left without options the assassins started to follow her one by one.

Alfeo was the last one to move. He was at the base of the stairs when he thought he heard someone shout at him from behind.

He turned to see figures standing on the surface of the water. It was a long paved street and a group of children were running around, chasing after a boy with a wooden loop.

'_Alfeo, get back with it.'_

'_Come on ,Mattia, you have to catch it first!'_

'_No, what are you doing?'_

_The boy put the loop down and pushed it powerfully._

'_Dare you to go get it.'_

_The boys looked in thrill as the loop rolled down through faceless people until it reached a tall figure of a woman, encircled her and stopped at her feet. The woman turned at them and everything vanished into the thin reflections of the lights above the water._

Alfeo turned around and clenched his jaw. He caught up with Mattia and made sure they were far back.

'This doesn't change anything. We still have a mission, I hope you know, Mattia.'

The man took his time to answer.

'Of course.' They walked in silence for a while. 'This doesn't change anything.'

They couldn't remember for how long they have been walking. Most of it happened in silence, the only noises coming from their steps. Not even the fire coming from the torch was audible and that sent chills down their spines.

Gaetano walked ahead to light their path. He froze.

'Oh no..'

That was it… the path was blocked. There were no more corridors, no more halls; just a tall, thick wall.

'It can't be!' They looked around. 'Did we go wrong a turn?'

Yet Shiva remained quiet. She betrayed confusion as well but didn't say a word.

She pushed one of them out of her way and put her gloved hands on the wall.

'Light please.'

The assassin didn't need another invitation.

'This is the way in.' And she didn't wait for their reactions. She started feeling the grooves in the wall, tracing them.

She took small steps to her right and leaned a bit.

'Here!'

The archer brought the torch over and the light revealed a familiar socket. Shiva took the pendant out of the pouch. It felt as if the wall absorbed it instantly and every groove lightened up in the color of hot metal, revealing sets of thick circles.

It took her but a moment to start turning them as if she had them memories.

A loud noise echoed around them as the wall came to life and started to lift.

'How did you know the combination?' one of the assassins asked in awe.

'I didn't…' when they looked at her she continued, a bit aghast herself. 'in a way. When the key fit in I recognized the door. Down the corridors I saw myself opening this door. The vision kept repeating itself for a while. I just remembered the steps.'

They stepped back as dust was falling from the wall.

'And how would…_you_ know in the first place?'

She tilted her head and looked at the man, almost searching for an answer herself.

'I think the same way I did now… '

Shiva didn't wait for the wall to fully go up so she bent under, against the protests of her body. She went past a grated door and looked at the new-founded circular room. Opposite from them another pair of doors were opening up. This chamber was tall and well lighted yet there was no source of light. It felt as if they were on the inside of a column, with some of the walls pushing forward. The floor was decorated with the symbol of the vault. From place to place, where the walls were connecting with the floor there were round mouths of ducts carved at the base. Some of them were covered with lids while some were blocked by fallen rocks. Way above those, there were what seemed to be opened pipes with mold running down the walls.

She looked ahead at the pedestal in the middle of the room.

The assassins gathered inside, carefully judging their surroundings.

The woman took her time to reach the round podium.

The archer with the torch stepped towards the other end. 'Is this the way out?' But she didn't answer.

Instead she leaned over the round pedestal made of 4 thick rock rings. Every ring had a set of engravings and on top of them all, in the middle there was a small triangle made from an entirely different material. It seemed to be gold and its insides were made of extremely thing gears and disks. She walked her hand over the small artifact. It seemed embedded in the stone. Instinctively she brought her hand up and wiped the dried blood at the corner of her mouth as her eyes glimmered and roamed over the circular podium.

Mattia and Alfeo stopped nearby and exchanged a look. It would seem that whatever she had been looking for, the thief had finally found it. That could mean just one thing. Alfredo rested his hand on the dagger at his belt.

She pushed the fallen tresses back above her head to have a better look and knelt at the base of the podium. She put both her hands on one of the rings and tried to push. It was stuck but it was definitely designed to move.

With renew determination she added more force. The stone moved. But suddenly the room lightened up with thousands of flames and the silence was broken by the terrifying screams of people running away. The assassins jumped back trying to stay out of their ways and the flames. But as soon as it started the place went back into complete silence and there were no flames, no burning houses and no people.

'What the hell was that?'

They were petrified at the unnatural things that they have witnessed. Shiva looked back at the podium, hands still on the ring.

'It's that thing, isn't it?' asked Mattia, the first one to recover from the visions.

She continued to search for a proper place on the stone.

'You need to stop doing that!' he took a step closer to her.

'I am not keeping you here. You can leave through that door if so you want.'

From her position crouched at the base of the podium she eyed the other man.

'Threatening me won't work, boy.'

And as to prove her point she pushed the ring once more.

Again the room was flooded by people but this time around they were hidden by the night, away from the burning walls, in an opened field. One of the assassins could recognize himself in the scared young man.

'_Alfeo is still in the town. We should go back, they are attacking our homes!'_

'_It's too late. He wouldn't listen. We need to make sure our families are safe!' The cry of a baby echoed as the memory faded. 'Mother please, make him stop. They'll hear us!'_

The voices were metallic and almost unreadable… but they didn't need to understand to know what they were saying.

'Shiva, stop, please!'

Another ring, another push.

Gaetano felt cold chills down his spine when smoke rose through him and a ghostly shape of an assassin formed, carrying a small body covered in blood in his arms.

'_Mattia! Somebody please, call for Mattia!' the white shadows of assassins gathered around. 'I found him north of Rome…wearing the assassin coat. He's barely breathing. He's Mattia's little brother! He needs help!'_

'That's enough!'

But as the man yelled she pushed another time and more and more visions collided until they had to cover their ears and close their eyes to shut them down and make the pain in their heads stop. They were too bright and too loud.

And then it stopped.

All that was left was darkness and a long high ping ranging through their minds. When Mattia opened his eyes he saw the triangle floating above the pedestal, thin rays and circles emerging from it, barely lightening the room.

Shiva got on her feet. But the short moment of quietness and marvel was disrupted by the threatening noise coming from the doors. Suddenly there was a click and the grated doors started to fall, followed closely by the second heavier set.

Gaetano and Nicolo ran to exit to stop it from trapping them inside.

'The doors are closing.'

They looked around for a mechanism to stop them.

Alfeo ran after the pendant left outside on the other side but those doors were falling as well and he realized he wouldn't make it back in time.

Instead Shiva skipped towards the two assassins to help them hold the gate.

'It's no use! Once the heavier door will reach us we will get crashed.'

The woman looked at the symbols running downs the walls on the side of the door. The round metallic circles were turning, pushing the doors down. It wasn't designed to open from inside. Once closed there was no opening it unless they were on the side from which they came.

She grabbed her hook and did the only thing that came into her mind. With as much force as she had she thrust it into the rotating groove of the round mechanism and blocked it. The wall kept pushing down without descending. She let all her weight on the other end of her grapple.

'Get… under!'

The two men looked at her and back at Mattia and Alfredo.

'Come on, move!'

Gaetano crouched and made it across.

Shiva frowned when the metal of her tool started to distort. Thinking fast she went for her rope, detached it from her belt and passed it through two of the bars and under the gate. She made a knot and pulled, stepping backwards and around the podium once. When she was ready to make another knot the grapple gave up and she was pulled into the pedestal. She screamed in pain at the impact, left without air but she didn't let go of the rope.

Because of that the gates fell again, but stopped inches above the ground caught between the remaining of the grapple barely stuck in the mechanism and Shiva's grip on the improvised lever.

She thought that her arms were going to be torn apart when the pull of the rope got considerably lighter. She forced her eyes opened and to her left she caught sight of the crouched assassin, on the other side of the pillar, pulling the rope and forcing the gate just a bit up.

He looked up.

'Go, go!'

Nicolo didn't waste a moment and lay on the floor, squeezing himself through the gape, helped by the assassin on the other side.

'Mattia!' she called through her teeth, renewing the grip on the rope. '…when your men are on the other side, you'll follow!'

To her surprise the assassin shook his head but didn't look at her.

'You won't be able to hold the rope.'

'Yes I will. I can do this long enough for you to cross.'

'Shiva…' his voice was barely hearable. Only then he lifted his head at her. He grinned and a thin seepage of blood went down to his jaw. When he spoke, the inside of his lips were completely red. 'I won't make it to the other side.'

Her eye widened in horror and her breath stopped in her throat. Frenetically she turned her head and yelled after the standing assassin.

'Alfeo! Get him out of here! Take Mattia out!'

He choked. 'Get outside! Make sure that Nicolo and Gaetano will be ok. You need to get out!' then he turned at the woman. 'Shiva, if I could I'd ask you to go with them… but neither of us will be able to hold the gate opened on our own.'

She refused to look away from him. Her lips turned thin, pressed against each other. She hated it but he was right; the woman looked past her shoulder.

'Follow the same path as now. Look for the circle in the right, upper part of the niches. Make sure it's always there until it becomes just an arch, following the directions of a sundial.'

The man stepped backward towards the gate.

'What about you?'

Shiva looked at the man next to her. He was in pain as he struggled with the ropes.

'I'll find a way for us to get out. Go now!'

He was not happy with it and yet he took the orders not because she so commanded but because Mattia wouldn't have had it any other way.

The man went down and pulled himself to the other two assassins.

The rope was about to give up.

'Mattia, we need to let go at the same time.'

The assassin nodded.

'One… two… three!'

They let the rope slip through their hands. Both stumbled forward because of the force and the doors immediately fell.

Shiva got on her knees and whooshed by his side.

The man was coughing blood. Alarmed she got the knife from its holster and cut through the layers of shirts over his stomach. When she pulled them off she held her breath at the sight. His skin all around the chest and abdomen was the colour of plums and blood had found its way to the last layer of skin.

He was panting and groaning, allowing himself for the first time to give in to the pain. Or it had become so unbearable that he couldn't control it anymore.

'I think some of the broken ribs might have pierced something.' he looked down, facing the damages for the first time.

'Why didn't you say anything!?'

'To what end? Nothing would have changed. I would have simply worried them and make them more stubborn, not leaving when they had the chance.'

Shiva straightened and looked around. She frowned; the pipes from above were leaking water. That's when a horrible thought hit her. This circular room was no different in shape and height than the lake they've seen on their way here.

She got up even if her legs and arms were trembling. She approached one of the ducts and kicked the lid. They were designed under pressure. When the water was going to flow inside the traps would shut down and they were trapped it. Yet…. If they would make it before that… maybe those ducts would lead somewhere else. This was their only chance.

'We can make it through these ducts!'

'Shiva….'

'The water will soon start flowing in from the basin. It will fill up this room. We can make our way through one of these. Come on!'

'Shiva… I can't.'

The woman protested.

'I'll help you up. We can use the rope to keep you from hitting the walls of the pipes.

'Shiva… my lungs are pierced. I am afraid that if I move any more I won't be able to breath.' As he uttered his words more blood came from his mouth.

She narrowed her eyes and sprinted back toward the center of the room.

'I'm not living you behind!'

She went to the podium and the floating piece. She looked at it and circled the podium. Her hands hit the stone.

'It's not completed!' She let her head down to cover her frustration. 'I can't do anything with just a piece!' Her voice went lower and lower as it waved. 'Damn it! Why is it always like this?!'

The man gasped for air.

'I can't make a thing from what you're saying. You make no sense.'

She tilted her head to look at him.

'If only I had known.'

With that she forced herself up and went back to him. Water was dropping down the walls in vines.

'Mattia, we can still make it. Get you out, look for Ezio… get a horse and run with you to the village nearby.'

Her legs gave up and she crouched down trying to put her hands under his body to get him up.

The man searched for her eyes.

'Shiva, stop.'

She froze at his words and had to fight the shiver away at the sight of his weak smile.

'I won't be going anywhere. We both know it.'

'We can at least try!' her angry voice rang through the empty room.

His smile faded away and he shook his head.

'I'm tired…. I just… want to rest.'

Her lips trembled and she exhaled abruptly. Still desperate she looked back at his opened chest but she felt defeated.

So the woman let her body fall in the ground. She kept her arms under him and pulled him closer until his head was on her lap and she rested her back on the podium, one leg stretched and one under her, to help his shoulders up and make sure he's comfortable and not feeling the hard stones under them.

'You should go…'

'I will…' she said eventually.

Then they remained in silence, his coughs keeping her attentive. She got her hand up and wiped his mouth with the side of her palm.

'They all knew you… Alfeo… Gatetano …. Nicolo… they all knew who you were.'

The woman looked at the dripping water going down the wall. She smiled.

'I recognized them, Mattia.' she frowned. 'How fast has the time flown...'

He swallowed. 'We lost Massimo in the fire when Monteriggioni was attacked. We tried to gather as many people as we could outside the citadel that night… but Alfeo said that he wouldn't leave. That if there was going to be a fight he will stand there. He came out alive… Massimo wasn't so lucky.'

He made a pause to regain his breath. 'Valle d'Aosta took my cousin, Iacopo.'

'And now Vittorio. He was killed in the attack at the passage.'

She held her breath; the decapitated assassin that was sent as a signal for her… she thought of the man she had shot inside the burning library.

'When Messer Ezio started to gather assassins we all knew what we wanted to do. So we went to Rome.'

'What good did it do? It got you killed.'

'People die in war.' He relaxed his eyes walking them around the room. 'We can't all have a happy ending.'

'You never told him, did you?' he continued.

She shifted his weight under him and searched for his eyes, confused.

'Tell him what?'

'That you've been that night in Monteriggioni.'

The woman lowered her head, long tresses from her ochre hair falling from their place.

'It wouldn't have mattered.'

'He would have listened to you. Give you the chance to explain.'

'There's nothing to explain. It doesn't make any difference. People died that day.'

He coughed. 'People lived because of you that day.' The assassin looked up for her.

'No, people lived because of you. You convinced them to leave their houses before dawn.'

'Because you warned us!'

She let out an ugly, weak snort. 'Mattia, I warned _you_; to take your family and seek refuge. You went as far as starting to get the people out of Monteriggioni before the conflict. … You're the hero of that story.'

He let out a heavy sigh and closed his eyes. She tried to look away not to read the pain on his face.

'Can I ask you something?'

'Mmm?' he still didn't feel like opening his eyes.

'What happened to that letter that I gave you… ?'

At that he frowned and tried to remember.

'After you left…. I ran to the villa. As you instructed I did my best to try and give him the letter personally. I fought the guards outside and lovely Claudia saw me and granted me access inside. She pointed me to his room. I made it up and there… Sforza, the lady from Forli, came out and told me he's having a bath. She told me she was going to join him and give it to him right away. I was just aside the room. I knew what it meant when she said 'join'. She seemed wise and… to tell you the truth… trustable.' He tried to laugh but he convulsed and more blood came out. 'then I saw Monteriggioni in flames from afar and I though… what if I had made a mistake…. What if she never passed the letter?'

Shiva glanced at him.

'It holds no matter. Nothing would have changed, anyway. I was simply curious.'

'I'm sorry.'

'There's nothing to be sorry for. We can't change the past.' As she let the words escape her lips, her eyes went upon the gleaming artifact.

He caught her.

'Are you going to bring it to Cesare?'

She blinked her thoughts away.

'Is this what Ezio thinks I am doing here?'

'Are you not?'

She smiled but it brought no happiness to her expression.

'No.' she allowed one simple, sincere answer. She had so many secrets hidden under her cape that it felt like a relief to share part of them.

'Then… what is that you want from this thing?'

She felt her leg go numb. Water was slowly making its way to them.

'….redemption…'

An uncontrollable fit of coughs took over his body, spilling blood over his white shirts. She did her best to help him not choke on his blood. When he relaxed again he looked at her with serene eyes.

'I hope it will be worth it.'

She felt a knot in her throat and the edges of her eyes were stinging.

'I hope so too.' She glanced back at the object.

'Thank you.'

'What for?'

'My brother…'

She clenched her teeth and pushed her lips together before speaking.

'He was a long way from home.'

'He ran away from our parents, looking for me.'

"I didn't recognize him. I only saw him once when he was a baby. Only later I realized who he might be….'

She fell quiet.

'He doesn't hate you… he's smarter than me, you know?' he tried to laugh. 'He's more perceptive than I ever was. He understood what you did for him. He won't go easy on you if he sees you though…' his voice died for a while. 'He'll have an even harder time accepting it now that I won't return ho-'

He didn't finish. He felt her powerful grip on his hand. It felt comforting. He was grateful for the first time that he wasn't going to be alone.

'Have you seen how beautiful Claudia has become?'

Shiva was taken aback by his question. But she welcomed it.

'Yes…. I saw her in Rome some months ago. She has grown a beautiful woman.'

'Back in Monteriggioni I used to have a thing for her… but…she was older than me and I didn't dare to think of it. Instead I used to chase her around and mock her on the streets.'

The woman let out a soft laughter and he wished he could do the same.

'I bet if Maestro knew how often I visited _Rossa in Fiore_**… **he would have considered twice before taking me under his wing.'

At that she couldn't help but laugh full-heartedly. Their situation was ridiculous, but Shiva went on laughing, afraid to stop.

'You and Claudia…'

He grinned. 'She taught me how to read... and I taught her how to fight… among other things.'

'You rascal!'

He coughed his laughter.

'I'll miss her smile… and the freesias scent of her soft hair.'

He squeezed her hand tighter.

'Remember the old merchant at the corner of the main street? Remember that trick with the stones you taught us? He used to fall for it for so many times.'

His mouth trembled.

She tried to laugh again but it wouldn't come out.

'Gaetano used to cry each time we got into trouble and left him behind while we'd run off on the roofs. He was always so annoyed that he couldn't climb up like us.'

'When Ezio was not at the Villa we liked to pretend we were his personal eyes and ears, guarding for the wellbeing of Monteriggioni.'

He wept, a long shiver possessing his body. And still, he went on, a twisted smile on his face.

'Ezio never knew you used to sneak out in the town during the day to chase with us around the roofs. And we followed you around like baby chicken to a mother hen'. He laughed but blood got stuck in his throat.

Her vision blurred completely and her lower lip trembled. She looked away, desperately trying to control the threatening tears.

The man stopped and convulsed violently for air.

'Mattia!'

He continued to do so, his body not listening to him.

'Mattia please, don't go! I beg of you!'

The man regained conscience momentarily and looked into her eyes.

'I'm scared….'

She didn't know how to react…she was lost and she … she herself …

'So am I…' she whispered through her sticky lips, covered in blood, sand and tears.

He held her gaze, the only comforting thing in the dark place he was slipping towards.

'Good luck… '

She battled her sobs away.

'Give him a chance… he'll understand. I saw him… He'd take any reason to forgive you.'

His lips moved once more but no sound came out, and his eyes left opened never closed.

A short shrill escaped her lips and her shoulders fell forward, shaking uncontrollably. More sobs followed until she couldn't control it anymore and she simply let the tears fall down her cheeks.

The woman rested her forehead on his and she let her tears consume in silence.

They hadn't dried fully on her cheeks when she finally let go of his hand and gently placed the corpse on the ground. She grabbed the edge of the podium to drag herself on her feet.

Standing there she gazed with empty eyes at the floating artifact. She was tempted to turn around and leave without it. But how many deaths would she step on if she were to give up now? Maybe she had been an idiot, chasing ghosts but it was too late to turn back.

The thief brought her left arm up, but hesitated one more time. On its own, her hand finished the job for her, cupping the triangle and hiding it in her fist.

She closed her eyes at another explosion of light and when she opened them again her fist was opened, palm up, and she was in a different place, in another moment. She looked up at the man in front of her.

'_Where is the apple?'_

'_Why would I tell that to a treacherous bitch?'_

_The tall man took his sword out and spit at her feet._

'_For how long have you been Borgia's lap dog? Getting inside our house, eating with us at the same table.'_

'_Don't get too excited, old man! If you know where the Apple is you'd better take it and run while you still have the chance!'_

'_An Auditore doesn't run! Let that coward come after the apple; I'll cut his head the same way I'll do with you'_

_The sound of a bullet flying past her ear; and the man lost the grip on the sward, throwing his body forward, cupping his hand around the shoulder in pain. _

_A horse approaching in gallop from behind and someone jumping out of the saddle; a deep red cape flew past her. _

'_Did this old bull tell you anything? Does he have the apple?' the victorious bark of the man echoed through her ears._

Her body fell forward on the pedestal and she shook the visions out of her body. Suddenly the flux of water coming from the pipes above grew and water was starting to gather much faster. The skin on her left arm was burning and when she opened her fist the leather on her palm was melted, the skin damaged around the artifact.

She only stared at it moments long. Then, she snapped her fist closed again and brought the triangle, not bigger than a coin, in one of the pouches of her belt.

The ducts were almost closed under the pressure. She made her way through the water to one of them and pulled the remaining of its broken lid. Crouched she stopped and looked at the flowing water being sucked by the narrow passage.

She paused and turned her head, glancing one last time at the body of the fallen assassin.

She swallowed; her dry throat was hurting.

'I'm sorry.' Was all that she could mutter before she threw her legs ahead and pushed he body down the duct.

At first the fall was smooth, the slope almost perfectly shaped. But the more she advanced the more abrupt it became and the carvings were losing from their finesse. The water pushed her around mercilessly and she eventually lost control of her directions. A rock hit her side and she was tempted to open her mouth. Stubbornly she kept her mouth closed and held her breath. The slope disappeared from under her and she felt her body fall. Seconds later she hit the water again and she opened her eyes. She was pushed at the bottom of a fast source of running water. Shiva fought to get back at the top but the current kept pushing her into rocks. Barely out for some seconds she gasped for air and tried to grip a rock in her fall.

Her wet hands slipped and her back hit another edge. The hit instantly sent her back at the bottom and she was kept there by the currents. She could barely see anything through the water, her eyes stinging and she left breathless from the previous hits. Shiva attempted to pin her feet on the bottom and launch her body upwards but her feet kept sleeping. She didn't have the time to see the sharp rocks to her left and in one more failed attempt to reach for the surface the current threw her body violently against them, crushing her lungs and forcing her to open the mouth. Her body spun uncontrollably above them and was carried without protest down the river.

He vision darkened and she lost control over her body. She thought she saw the water turn red before her eyes closed.

_The tiles made almost no noise under her careful steps. She watched from behind a chimney the group of boys hiding behind one side of the roof, scouting the area, all lying _flat.

'_Can you see her? Where did she go?'_

_She grinned at the vigorous whispering of the group. The woman stepped from behind the chimney and silently approached them. When she was almost touching the tip of their feet she cleared her voice._

'_Are you looking for someone, urchins?'_

_At the sudden voice they jumped on their feet and started to yell, scattering along the roofs._

'_Aaaa, run! She's here!'_

_One of the boys stumbled and fell on his face._

'_Run, Vittorio! If she catches you she'll sell your arms on the black market!'_

_The young woman let out a lively, strong laughter._

The current pushed the body forward, throwing it off the cliff, into the thundering waterfall.

_The walls of Monteriggioni appeared in front of her and she forced her horse to run faster. At the gates she jumped off and made sure that the animal was taken care of at the stables._

_She went past the gate and wanted to make her way towards the villa when she caught sight of a familiar face._

'_Mattia?'_

_The young man stopped from hitting the hot iron and looked up, wiping his forehead of coal with the back of his hand._

_His eyes glimmered in recognition when the thief let the hood down._

'_Shiva!' He put his tools down and ran towards the woman._

'_Look at you! How have you grown!' _

_With unexpected familiarity the man closed the gap between them, taking the woman into a tight hug._

'_Three years since you last visited Monteriggioni?'_

_She laughed. 'Something like that.'_

'_How have you been? How is your mother?'_

'_Well, well. She has her hands full with my little brother…'_

'_Walk with me.'_

'_What brings you back here?' He said as he stepped into her pace._

'_I need to have an urgent word with Ezio.'_

'_Oh, you're in luck. He just returned this morning with Messer Mario from Rome.'_

_She smiled. _

'_I was hoping they did.'_

'_How come Monteriggioni is so crowded these days?' She looked at the streets and remembered the unusual numbers of horses held at the gates._

'_Ah, that's because of our visitors from Forli.'_

_The woman froze in the middle of the road, an expression of defeat taking over her features._

'_Sforza is already here?'_

'_You mean the Countess of Forli? Yes… she's been here for two days now… waiting for Messer Ezio to return.' _

_The woman glanced around her, at the busy streets and at the merchants gathering their goods at the end of the day._

'_Shiva? What's wrong? Why did we stop? I thought you were in a hurry.'_

_She looked down, at the feet in the dusty road. Her palms turned to fists. _

'_It's too late. He won't listen.'_

'_What was that?'_

_Suddenly she looked at him._

The body hit the bottom and was pushed into the rocks, to the surface and back again, swallowed by the torrent.

_The woman jumped from her seat at the candle-lit table and folded the paper, sealing it with wax._

'_Listen to me carefully boy, after I leave, run as fast as you can and give this letter to Ezio and no-one else. Do you understand me?'_

_He nodded._

_She grabbed her long cape and swirled it over her shoulders. She stepped out of the shabby house and turned at the man._

_She held her breath for a second, hesitating before whispering to him._

'_Pack lightly. Talk to your mother and leave Monteriggioni tonight.'_

'_What? Why? Would you tell me what all this is about?'_

_She frowned. 'It might not come to that but… please, do as I say… try to convince as many people as you can to leave these walls as quietly and fast as they can. Just for a day or two.'_

_He wanted to open his mouth again. 'Please don't ask more. I shouldn't even be here. I'll try to buy as much time as I can. Make sure you deliver the letter and stay safe.'_

_With that she spun and vanished through the narrow walls of the houses._

The river took a turn and the flow lost some of its tower, allowing the figure to resurface.

_The young thief marched in front of a line made of 7 urchins, all dressed in tatty clothes and wearing a somber and important expression on their faces._

'_Tell me the names of these valiant men, minion!'_

''_tis tall one is Alfeo, my best friend and brother in arms; the one with a missing tooth is Gaetano; he broke it when he was being chased by the bread-maker and fell on his face' the boys laughed. 'next's my little cousin Iacopo, with his brother Massimo, Vittorio and last one's Nicolo, Ma'am!'_

'_You say you want to learn the highway of the roofs. How to sneak and run and become agile like…yours truly. Well… ' she stopped and turned, retracing her steps. '..for that you need to pass certain tests… you need to show that you are cut for this. What you say?' She stuck her nose up in the air and then bent to their eye level. 'are you ready?'_

_Their voices rang powerfully through the air with excitement._

'_Yes!'_

'_Yes what?' _

'_Yes ma'am!'_

'_Good.'_

_She approached the second boy in line._

'_And what is this?' She pointed at a spot. 'Spilled milk on your shirt? No, no, no… we can't have that. Real men don't drink milk!' She darted closer, in order to intimidate the boy. She closed one eye and tilted her head so that she could make eye contact 'and if they do… they don't leave evidences'._

_She straightened up. 'You've just lost the right to attend the first test! The rest of you to the roofs!'_

_The boys laughed at him and sprinted as commanded._

'_But mommy said she wouldn't wash my clothes until tomorrow at the river!' He yelled almost crying after them._

She felt as if she was floating in void.

Into the darkness_ she heard the sound of a wooden loop getting closer and closer to her. It rolled at her feet until it eventually fell unanimated. She looked up from it and met the clear, curious blue eyes of an innocent young boy with messy hair. _

_He was saying something but she couldn't hear it. He said it again and again but it didn't make any sense to her. His mouth was forming words that did not fit to what she heard._

'_I'm scared…'_

_Her own voice filled her head._

'_So am I…'_

Her eyes opened and a moment of lucidity washed her mind. She was desperate for air and with one last effort she set her body into motion, lunging for the surface.

When she felt the cold chills on her face she opened her mouth, gasping for air and coughing the water out. Her body was tired and yet she had to fight to get out of the river. When she felt rocks under her feet and hands she started to shake uncontrollably, just now grasping the fatality of what she had gone through. The woman pulled herself, almost crawling out of the water to the bank of the river and there, finally safe, she let her body fall in the gravel and wet grass. Her eyes unfocused on the rich branches of the forest above her and she found herself wondering how far had the river brought her. Somewhere, in the distance she thought she heard someone yelling not sure if it was an echo in her mind or if it was happening around her.

The voices intensified and she rolled on the grass, pulling her legs under her and pushing herself up on her arms.

She saw men appearing from the other side of the hill and panic made her body forget how tired and abused it felt. When her eyes cleared of water and sand she started to distinguish the assassin attire of the men at the top of the hill, staring down at her.

Her feet threatened to collapse under her weight as she got up.

She watched the assassin pull his sword out. She tried so very hard to understand what he was saying but the echoes in her head made everything so hard. She recognized the three silhouettes aligned alongside him.

The man ventured his sward up and on command the archers pulled their bows and tensed their arrows.

They were too far for her to see their faces and read their expressions. She tried to take a step back and choked repeatedly. At the end of their arrows was every effort she had made so far and she could do nothing from stopping the outcome. Even if she could run fast those arrows would have found her.

Gaetano felt the feather of his arrow on his cheek. He had the woman in his sight. Yet he glanced at his fellow archers.

They had made it out and reunited with the rest of the group outside a cave, exiting the mountain.

When Ottavio and his men returned with the horses that had run from the abbey after the massacre he had stopped, discovering movement along the river.

Full of hopes they had run but no matter how much they waited to see a second figure, it was just the thief that gathered herself from the banks.

'Aim!' he heard Ottavio yell.

He met Nicolo's concerned look and both searched for any sign from Alfeo. Without Mattia, he was the one to guide the group. But, if he felt their gaze upon him, he wasn't letting it show.

They knew what they had to do. They were a command away.

Still they felt nervous and unsure. Gaetano's hand was sweating on the bow and he wished he could just ask Alfeo what they should do. It was a question that troubled all three of them.

Their target got up and looked straight at them.

Nicolo frowned and if it was possible he pulled the arrow even more powerfully until his fingers hurt from the pressure.

Alfredo swallowed and he tightened the grip on the bow.

She let out a long, painful pant but refused to close her eyes.

'Fire!'

They held their breath.

Three arrows darted in the air.

Her body shook in expectation.

She thought it would be short, painful and bitter.

But she stared at three long arrows jabbed into the grown at her feet.

Her eyes grew wide in revelation and the thief looked up at the archers.

This was her chance, she was sure another escape she wouldn't receive. She gathered whatever force she still had in her and stumbled along the banks through a calmer and shallower water, disappearing into the depths of the forest.

'What have you done?! What the hell was that?!'

The horror in Ottavio's eyes was only rivaled by the thunder in his voice.

'Grab another arrow, don't let her escape!'

But the archers tuned him out. They stared in mutual surprise at the three arrows they had implanted in the ground. Gaettano let his head down to cover his weak smile. He couldn't control it the same way Alfredo was capable. They had not spoken to one another. And yet… their thoughts met.

It was not kindness that stopped them. They knew by now that Mattia was not to come out of that tomb anymore. Somehow, they had known it from the moment the gates had fallen and he had shared with them a last roguish smile.

If they had to, their second arrow would have hit the target. But she had been smarter than that. Yet, they owed it to her. They had found kindness into the place they were expecting death. They also owned it to their fallen friend; their brother. It was not kindness, they would continue to say; it was one last salute and acknowledgment for the man that wouldn't be returning home with them.

They lowered their bows and didn't exchange a word.

They watched the desperate figure of their brother assassin running down the hill, towards the forest.

'Ottavio!'

A strong, familiar voice rang from behind. The swordsman stopped and the three archers turned, expecting to be met by an expression of disappointment. But the man didn't spare them a single glance.

'Ottavio, stop! Let's regroup…'

'…and let us return home.'

When the man was ready to leave Alfeo found upon him the burden of an explanation.

'_Maestro… -'_

'I don't want to hear it.'

He started to walk away.

'You already have someone back in Rome who will want an explanation. So don't waste your excuses on me.'

* * *

><p>The cold wind blew through the quiet valley. Lost were the high walls of the abbey and the sleeping village was left behind.<p>

A shadow moved along the lines of trees. It stopped and looked down, on the road at the tired riders, making their way through the night.

She sought support against one of the trees, and let her body down, in the wet grass, following the men disappearing into the horizon.

* * *

><p>Alfeo let his horse walk next to Ezio's. He was lost in a place he didn't like, awaiting with dread their return to Rome, bearing the bad news.<p>

The older man glanced at his assassin. He knew he had been too harsh with them but they should come at peace with their actions on their own.

He pulled the reins of his straying horse.

'It's hard isn't it?'

Not expecting the elder assassin to exchange a single word with him, he looked up surprised.

'It's hard to kill when your target plays with your trust. When you can't antagonize her the way you want.'

And then he went silent again.

He kicked his horse and made it ahead, towards the rest of his men.

Alfredo looked at the broad back of his mentor. Since the disasters started to hit the assassins, there were words around the Brotherhood of how their leader was weak for not taking actions sooner. But as he watched the crooked shoulders and the heavy way in which the man was carrying his body… only then it occurred to him how strong he must have really been for holding up for so long.


End file.
